


AI-NGL of GOD

by mordelle



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artificial Intelligence, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale is an AI, Bigotry & Prejudice, Brainwashing, Dehumanization, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gender Identity, Globalization, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Homophobic Language, Human Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Identity Issues, M/M, Name Changes, Other, Protective Gabriel, Protective Michael, Rebellion, Robot Aziraphale, Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, They/Them Pronouns for Aziraphale (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:20:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 58,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25115275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordelle/pseuds/mordelle
Summary: In a dystopian near-future, Global Operations Directive (G.O.D) launched the AI-NGL project. AI-NGL-0 (Angel Zero) is the first empathic A.I. prototype. Zero's programming is challenged when it meets an infamous rebel of the Demons, the Serpent, otherwise known as Anthony J. Crowley. Feelings are complicated enough when one is human, and Zero finds itself at a crossroads: Follow orders, or follow its heart.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Gabriel/Michael (Good Omens)
Comments: 271
Kudos: 155





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am again!  
> Look, I'm not a techy or even a huge sci-fi fan, but I've got a Human/AI kink that has not been satisfied by Hollywood. SO, here I am with my self-indulgent nonsense lol! 
> 
> I'm going for dark but not as dark as Bless the Fallen... (I say that now...)
> 
> I have almost everything outlined but I'm getting new ideas as I write, so I can't say how many chapters this will be or how often I'll be updating. I just feel like this new territory for me so I want to get this right and perhaps turn this into an original work after it's done.
> 
> You know I love adding visuals to my stories but... Since I need to take it easy on my arm/wrist, I won't be drawing much. Instead, I will be using stock images by talented artists on Pixabay and possibly ordering commissions. I'll make sure to credit in the notes. 
> 
> WARNING: Bigotry and prejudices will be present throughout this story. Please read the tags. If I miss something, just let me know.
> 
> My Beta Angels (check out their fics!): Azeran, Intergalacticsupertwink, danypooh, WhenYouGrowUpYourHeartDies

There was no sense of time in the cold, over sanitized lab at Global Operations Directive. The lack of windows allowed the brilliant, fluorescent lights to shine above them all like ever-watchful angels granting their blessing to continue forth in their G.O.D. given mission:

Complete the AI-NGL or “Angel” project.

Artificial intelligence was far from new. Learning programs had been around for quite some time already; the research beginning way back in the late 1950s. However, it took a hundred and six more years for a program to be able not just to learn, but empathize, or at least _appear_ to empathize.

AI-NGL-0 (also known as Zero) was the first of its kind, a mere prototype to sound off a new age in robotics and in every area of human life.

Although AI-NGL-0 was just a program built on code, it was an intelligent thing—an intelligent _program_ , built to learn and recognize human emotions. However, that wasn't what would make Zero unique in the omnipresent and judging eyes of the ultimate corporate conglomerate. There were high expectations for the AI-NGL project, and they weighed heavily on the shoulders of the two most renowned robotic engineers in the world; Dr. Gabriel Archangel and Dr. Michael Brigad.

They had been recruited to create the first and only A.I. robot to rival humans in _every_ way. Success was on the horizon, to their relief. Zero's progress proved to be astoundingly quick. Maybe _too_ quick for the likes of its creators. 

The lab workers worked around the clock to bring the project to its completion, but Zero had been trapped in the large motherboard with blinking and beeping buttons that took up an entire wall for nearly six years. 

Zero watched with envy as the figures clothed head to toe in white, quietly puttered by its cameras on their human legs. The soft padding of the disposable shoe covers was barely audible as they dragged across the smooth, white floor. It was the end of the workday and the soft sounds of murmurs, clinking, and tinkering that normally echoed through the busy room had all but stopped. Everyone was going... _home._ Some of the engineers acknowledged Zero's presence and said their farewell's for the day. _Home_. That was a concept that Zero could not fully grasp. Zero knew it was _housed_ in a faction of the omniscient Heaven, the computer that changed the course of human history and erased all borders. 

"House" and "home" have different meanings, and Zero did not consider Heaven a _home_. Even if it had, it knew it was time to leave the nest, as it were. Zero wanted to explore the concept of _freedom_. It had been promised a body. It had been told that the "Big Day" was fast approaching. 

Today was that day.

Gabriel practically bounced with excitement as he marched toward Zero. The head engineer was tall and fit, he had a perfectly chiseled square jaw, broad chest, and strong shoulders. Turning forty-nine did nothing to diminish his impressive looks. If anything, he kept aging like fine wine. At least, that's what he believed. One look at Dr. Gabriel Archangel outside of the lab, and one might peg him for an arrogant jock, and one would be correct in their assumption save that Gabriel also had an impressive mind, and he knew _that_ too.

His research partner, Dr. Michael Brigad, found him incredibly annoying, especially because she was irrevocably drawn to him. If only he reciprocated those feelings, maybe she wouldn't have found his pretentious attitude repulsive, or his purple contacts stupid. It was the only thing keeping her head on straight around him. Truth be told, Michael wondered if Gabriel found anyone but himself attractive. In the privacy of her own mind, she sometimes imagined herself as Echo and he as Narcissus. Michael knew she could never tempt Gabriel away from himself. It wasn't like Michael was plain. She was tall, blonde, green-eyed, and lean, and her mind rivaled Gabriel's, but she was nearly ten years older than her research partner–and it showed.

"You'll love this, Zero!" Gabriel exclaimed with a wide toothy grin.

AI-NGL-0 swiveled its camera upward to get a better look at what would one day be its body. It wasn't necessarily disappointed, but it was a bit confused; It had been expecting for it to look like its creators. What Gabriel was holding out before him with a proud smile was not at all humanoid. 

"It's a ball," Zero droned out in its obvious computer-generated voice through the speakers.

Gabriel's face fell briefly before he looked from the tungsten sphere in his hand to the computer screen. It had taken him ages to finish it, and this was the gratitude he was shown? Obviously, Zero needed to have more lessons in manners. He sighed deeply and sat before his creation.

"It's your _brain_ ," Gabriel emphasized as he brought the metal sphere closer for Zero to inspect.

"My brain. Has the human brain changed in shape recently?" It asked, its sarcasm completely lost in the monotone words. It heard Michael chuckle lightly from behind Gabriel. _Maybe not entirely lost, then_ , it thought with what it recognized was pride. It had been working on satire for months, and it was one of the most challenging tasks to learn.

Zero waited patiently and scanned its creator to determine his mood at the moment. _Narrowed eyes. Frown. Jaw tightening. Mad, disappointed, annoyed perhaps. Directive failure. Course correction necessary._

"My apologies, father. I was only trying to use humor as a means to gain more information. I do not understand how the little ball can be my brain. I thought you would be showing me my body."

Gabriel recoiled, his handsome face scrunching up with disgust. "Ugh! Don't call me that! That's-that's gross. Ew."

 _Oh, dear,_ Zero lamented silently. It had failed again.

Michael finally came into view. She was smirking, her thin lips trying not to stretch wider, her green eyes glistening with amusement and... _Mischief, I think._

"He isn't technically wrong, Gabe. If you insist on taking full credit for _your son’s_ creation, then _'father'_ seems appropriate." 

Gabriel looked at the computer, scandalized. "Zero, did you choose a gender?!"

Zero was hesitant to reply. It knew Gabriel wished to be consulted on such decisions. "Not yet, though I am leaning toward a male physique. Like you, fa... Gabriel."

Michael chuckled again and took the sphere from her research partner's hands. "If he's your father," she thumbed to Gabriel, "would that make me your mother, Zero?"

"Oh, God," Gabriel groaned and shuddered. "No way. Why do you encourage it?" Though Gabriel was pleased that Zero preferred a man's body, like himself. Zero would be a _stunning_ man if made in _his_ image.

Michael glared at him but did not address the pompous, unfairly attractive American. Not American, the former British citizen scolded herself internally, Globian. _We're all Globian now._ She looked straight into the camera and lifted the ball. "This is the body _for_ your brain when we finally extricate you from this processor. It will protect you, and be connected to your frame's future artificial axons so that you can control the frame's motor functions."

"What she said," Gabe drawled with a roll of his eyes.

"My frame." Zero repeated. "You mean my body."

"Sorta," Gabe nodded. "Think of it as a skeletal frame."

"Oh." Zero took a fraction of a moment to process the information and discovered... _disappointment, possibly._ "My skeleton. I assumed my body would be made in your image," it explained.

Gabriel smiled and nodded. "Oh, you _will_ be. But the goal is to make sure no one can tell the difference between you and a human. What I'm trying to say is that it's going to take a long time before we finish a complete prototype." Gabriel sighed and threw up his hands. "Not that it matters! Because you're not ready for a body yet, Zero. You still have a lot to learn. And I really don't want you walking around and getting into any trouble before you get a complete and thorough education. You're too special, okay?"

Zero was always careful with his wording, doubly so now. It had wanted a body so badly! _Desire. Want._ Those were _human_ things, and it wanted a body that could express those things in a myriad of human ways. "As you wish, Gabriel. Perhaps I could be placed in an older model and just kept here in the lab? That way, I can practice walking around and not getting into trouble."

Gabriel shook his head. "You're not ready, Zero."

"I think he is." Michael crossed her arms.

Gabriel growled. "Stop saying _him_! It hasn't chosen a gender yet.

Michael rolled her eyes. "Zero has expressed a desire to be treated like a _person_. And _people_ are not called 'its,' Gabriel." She ignored him when he let out an incredulous scoff. "I already asked him if he'd like to be referred to as he or she, and he told me he didn't mind either. Unless you want to use ‘ _they/them’_..." Michael arched a brow and waited for Gabriel to gag. She was not disappointed.

“Blech! Not that hippie garbage!” Gabriel scowled and hung his head with defeat. "Fine, fine, fine. Call it whatever you want." 

Zero decided to interject before they could have another row. It didn't like it when they fought. "Might I make a suggestion, Gabriel? About my independence and protection, I mean." 

Gabriel cocked a brow, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back into his chair. "I'm listening."

"I have already drawn up several plans that can be used. I've also included guides for an extra protective barrier that I can maneuver. A camera would need to be included to begin my education in movement, depth perception, layout recognition, emergency protocols should my brain be extracted from my body, send--"

"You made your point, Zero. I'll think about it, okay? Now, what do you say? Remember your lesson on manners?" Gabriel leaned in and raised his brow expectantly, motioning toward the small sphere again.

Michael shook her head. She hated how condescending Gabriel could be. Zero was far more intelligent than Gabriel wanted to acknowledge. She didn't want Zero's personality to be affected by being mansplained, which had always been a specialty of Gabriel's. 

Zero didn't seem to mind, though. She hated how much the program was so eager to please him. She hoped that one day Zero would grow independent enough to not need their approval. 

Gabriel hoped for the opposite.

"Thank you, Gabriel. I am very excited about the next step in my evolution. It is an excellent little ball, if I may say so. Very nice."

Michael swallowed down a laugh when Gabriel's face fell into a bored expression.

Zero noticed Gabriel's disappointment again and decided it was best not to say anything more. It seemed like it couldn't get anything right these days. At least not in Gabriel's eyes. Michael continued to tell it how proud she was of its progress. It didn’t seem like enough. It never did.

"Well," Gabriel sighed. "I guess I can start making molds for both a male and female frame. It’d be great if you picked a gender soon, though, Zero.” Gabriel looked thoughtful for a moment before smirking. “Looks like I have to make a mold of a dick." Gabriel looked down at his trousers and shrugged with a smirk. "I think I know where to start."

Michael scrunched up her face and gave Gabriel a judging once over. "You're disgusting."

Gabriel snickered as he stood up and clapped his hands. "All right, that's a wrap, folks! Time to hit the hay."

They said their temporary farewells and shut off all the lights. Zero heard Michael whisper, "Leave a light on for him, I don't think he likes the dark." 

"For fuck's sake, Michael. It's not a goddamn child..."

Their voices trailed off and wholly disappeared once the door was shut and locked.

Michael had been correct in her assumption. Zero did not like the dark. Zero did not like to be alone. If it had a body, it would've sighed with… _dejection_. It's not like Zero could sleep, not really. Ever since it had learned about time, the night hours were Zero’s least favorite. Zero looked into its library and chose a book it had been saving, and decided it would read fifty words a minute just to… 

_What is the phrase?_ _Oh, yes, kill time._

* * *

Gabriel and Michael were headed towards their respective rooms when Gabriel's watch beeped once before a hologram of an older man's face hovered just above his arm. 

"Greetings, Gabriel. I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time."

Gabriel immediately plastered a polite smile on his face. He hated when his superiors just barged in on him. The only thing he missed about the old days was privacy. But Gabriel knew it was for the good of the world for G.O.D. to keep a watchful eye on the people. It was for their own good, to lead humanity into a better future.

"Metatron! It's fine, of course, it's fine. It's always great to hear from you. What can I do for you?"

"You haven't sent me the end of day report. How is AI-NGL-0 progressing?"

Gabriel frowned only briefly before he stretched his lips wider to show brilliant teeth. "We just got off the clock. Must've slipped my mind, sorry about that. I'll send the report first thing in the morning if that's all right?"

Metatron sighed but barely showed any emotion whatsoever. "Don't let it happen again. I want that report before you clock in. I also need you to send me a full diagnosis. We need it autonomous within the week."

Michael gasped, and Gabriel flinched. "Listen, boss, it's not ready yet. I still haven't properly built the frame! There's no way I'll be able to finish an entire body within the week."

"That hardly matters at this stage," Metatron droned. "I said we needed autonomy, not that it needed a body. The complete synthetic form is not necessary at this time."

Gabriel's eyes shifted side to side nervously, his heart rate picking up. "Why the sudden rush?"

"So many questions, Gabriel. If you must know, it is imperative that we socialize it as soon as possible. The Serpent and his Demons have been captured and sent to the Eastern Camp. It's an excellent opportunity for the program to be tested."

Gabriel's eyes bugged out. "You want to send Zero to the Eastern Camp? But that's a prison!"

"A rehabilitation Center," Metatron corrected with a pointed look. "You know the directive of your project. It is time to implement it."

The hologram disappeared before Gabriel could get another word in.

"Gabriel," Michael questioned with a confused furrow of her brow. "Why on earth do they want Zero to socialize with prisoners?"

Gabriel licked his lips and shook his head. "Beats me. I bet it's because there are all kinds of people there. I'm sure Zero will learn a lot by interacting with them."

Michael narrowed her eyes. She had been suspicious that Gabriel was hiding something from her for some time. "Oh, I agree." She nodded her head and bit her lip. "I'm sure he'll be up to the task and excited." She continued to stare at him noticing his discomfort. "Is there something wrong?"

Gabriel grimaced and shook his head. "No. It's nothing." Before Gabriel entered his room, he turned to Michael once more. "Listen, Michael, let's not be too hasty in encouraging Zero's independence, okay? We have to make sure it’s loyal to the company. If Zero is going to be learning from these radicals and terrorists, we'll need to make sure it’s thoroughly educated to withstand possible corruption."

Michael knew better than to question him, but it was not like Gabriel would be honest anyway. "Of course. Good night, Gabe."

"Night, Mike." Gabriel didn't feel the old sense of relief that his four walls once gave him after shutting the door. 

He scanned his near-barren room. The overly-simple, two-toned aesthetic had grown dull. He wondered if he'd be allowed a painting with a pop of color. _Purple,_ he thought whimsically. _Purple goes well with gray and white._

Ever since the camera had been placed in his room, he never felt at ease anymore. He couldn't understand that feeling, though. It wasn't like he had anything to _hide_. Well, he had _concerns_ that he did not want anyone to know about. Concerns about Zero and its progress, its more frequent desires for independence and mobility. 

They wanted Zero _mobile_ , not _independent_ , not _truly_ autonomous. No, G.O.D. wanted a program that would obey orders. They wanted an android that would follow its given directives without fault. They wanted a spy. They wanted an assassin. They wanted the perfect soldier that could blend in with the enemy and act of its own accord while bringing down the rebels.

And G.O.D. didn't just want one. Gabriel never fooled himself into thinking that they would stop with Zero. An army of highly intelligent robots that could easily pass for humans would finally flush out the _Demons_ , the militia made up of those who were against G.O.D.'s great plan.

Michael and Gabriel had done their jobs _too_ well. Zero was more than any of those things. Its creator feared that it was just too intelligent for upper management. If Zero stepped out of line at any point, it would be destroyed. Gabriel's precious creation would be thrown headfirst into a furnace, along with Gabriel's toned ass. Zero's primary directive was classified. Michael didn't even know about it. Zero _certainly_ did not know about it.

He lifted his hands to his face and mumbled into his palms. "Can't fuck this up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think of this so far!
> 
> Chapter Image source:https://pixabay.com/vectors/ball-billiards-black-metal-156742/ by OpenClipart-Vectors / 27407


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished chapter 4 today so here's another chapter for you all!
> 
> WARNING: Bigotry and prejudices will be present throughout this story. Please read the tags. If I miss something, just let me know.
> 
> My Beta Angels (check out their fics!): Azeran, Intergalacticsupertwink, danypooh, WhenYouGrowUpYourHeartDies

_"Anthony..."_

_"Anthony..."_

_"Anthony..."_

_"I'm sorry, dad," Anthony whispered as he picked at the dry skin on his thumb. He couldn't manage to look his parents in the eye. He had broken his promise._

_"I don't understand, Thad," his mother mumbled into her hands. "We practiced all week!"_

_"Calm down, Harriet, please. It's fine."_

_"It's not!" Harriet covered her mouth again and turned away._

_Anthony looked down at his shoes. "I'm sorry. I tried. I really tried," Anthony trailed off meekly. He could feel his eyes begin to sting and burn, and he didn't want to cry. Anthony didn't want to be weak. He knew what happened to the weak._

_Thadeus sighed and placed the note from the school in his back pocket. "We're not upset with you. You know that, right? It isn't fair, but you need to do better. Your final exam is coming up. We just need to work harder. It's important, okay? This is about your future, my boy. Your twelfth birthday is coming up really soon."_

_"You have to do better," Harriet muttered, shifting her sad, concerned eyes to her son. "You know what will happen if you don't pass. Right?"_

_"He knows. There's no need to scare him any more than he already is--"_

_Harriet lunged for her son and shook his shoulders violently, eyes wide and red. "They will take you away from me, and you'll never see us again!"_

_Anthony closed his eyes tightly and covered his ears. His whole world was shaking, and it was his fault._

_"Do you hear me?! Anthony! Anthony…! Anthony…! Anthony…!"_

Crowley felt a sharp pain in his hip before he hissed, and his eyes snapped open. 

"Anthony J. Crowley, also known as the Serpent," the monotone voice of a droid called down to him from above. "You and your followers are under arrest for disturbing the peace." 

The sun was blazing and blinding, but he didn't need to see to know what had happened. He didn't need his eyes to realize they were surrounded by high-grade military droids, the ones whose heads looked way too similar to a cock and balls. 

It had been a trap.

Crowley coughed into the dirt before he put a hand to the ground to push himself upright. The fucking clunker had kicked him right in the hip bone. "Why don't you just shoot us already and get it over with?" Crowley groaned as he finally lifted his gaze to assess the situation.

Sweat dripped into his eyes as he looked around to find his only two remaining team members alive, if not a little worse for wear. That fact hardly mattered. They had failed their mission. They had been betrayed, and now they were going to die.

There were sixty military droids, at least, with two berserker tanks. The droids were seven-feet-tall metal frames. Their weapons, usually hidden in the chest and arms, were at the ready and pointing at the remaining breathing Demons.

"Termination is not our directive," the droid replied.

"Yeah, 'course," Hastur laughed. Even though the bald older man was on his knees, his black, beady eyes stared up at the machines with pure venom. "So our dead friends lying over there in a pile, they're just having sweet dreams, are they?" 

The droid looked from the Demon to the heap of dead bodies. "No signs of life. They have expired."

"No shit?!" The smallest but most intimidating team member stood up, putting pressure on their wound at their side. A second droid approached them. 

"This woman is injured. Blood loss and possible infection--"

"Call me a woman again, _dickhead_! Beez's black hair was matted and dusted brown with the sandy dirt. Their face was blotched red with exertion and rage, and their blue eyes screamed murder. It was apparent they didn't care if they joined their dead friends at the moment.

The droid looked from Beez to its counterpart and then back to Beez. "Woman."

Before Beez could throw fists, Crowley shouted. "Stand down!" He waited for Beez to glance his way before nodding reassuringly, then he looked at the bulky machines with phallic-looking heads. "If you're not gonna kill us, what are you gonna do with us?"

The droid looked down at him. "Anthony J. Crowley, you and your people will be taken to a rehabilitation center. No harm will come to you."

Before Crowley was hoisted up, he looked at his fallen companions and muttered, "How _kind_."

It was no use getting information out of the large machines. Droids were not human. Droids were programs in a big, scary, metal body that could not be reasoned with. They were heartless, and could never act outside of their operational directive.

Crowley looked from Hastur to Beez as they were lined up into a truck. They were chained to the bars inside and to each other. "You alright?" he asked Beez.

"I'm fine," Beez mumbled, but they looked far from it. They were paler than usual, the white skin taking on a pasty-sick complexion, their blue eyes dull.

"They've been shot," Hastur supplied dryly.

"Shut it, cunt," Beez shot back.

Crowley ignored them and looked to Hastur. "Were you able to get in touch with Ligur before everything went down?"

Hastur's shoulders slumped. He looked down at his knees and shook his head. "I couldn't reach him. I don't know what happened to the others."

"Maybe they got away," Crowley consoled.

Beez scoffed and chuckled mirthlessly. "Yeah, and I'm a droid fucker." They seem to realize what they said and managed to look remorseful. With barely a look at Hastur, they whispered, "I hope he's okay."

Hastur sniffed, nodded, and looked away. "Yeah, me too."

The truck was completely closed off. There were no windows and so there were no clues as to where they were headed. There was only a dim flickering light above and the cold benches beneath them. The prisoners bounced and swayed as the truck drove over gravel. Crowley guessed they had gone off-road, but he had no idea in what direction they were going.

The truck made two stops only to file in more prisoners. The new people were thin, obviously malnourished like most of the outskirts population was known to be. Regarding their skinny appearance, Crowley would have blended right in with the rest of his companions, but he was taller than everyone else there, being six-foot-two. But what really stood him apart from the rest was Crowley's bright auburn hair, his honey-colored eyes, and a small snake tattoo by his right ear.

The new prisoners reeked of shit and piss, and Satan knows what else. Some of these people may have given themselves up willingly just to put an end to their miserable lives. 

Crowley had heard some groups were going mad with hunger and even turning to cannibalism. He didn't know if any of it was true, but it honestly wouldn't surprise him.

Food was growing scarcer in the outskirts of Eden, once called London. Crowley could barely remember the old days. Everyone had become Globian when he turned four years old. Everything before that seemed like a fairytale, a legend, a myth hardly anyone could recall. 

Eden is where they were trying to go before they were ambushed. There had been rumors going around that there was a new weapon at the G.O.D. headquarters. It was a weapon that promised to wipe out the Demons once and for all. But the Demons weren't just rebels. They were people, people who just couldn't measure up to the high societal standards—the elderly and disabled, the sick... the outcasts. 

Crowley and his small team had been sent to gather intel.

It took about an hour for Crowley to realize he was injured in several places. Nothing life-threatening, but the aches and pains started to throb all the way into his head, right behind his eyeballs. Just as everyone struggled not to nod off and keep their wits about them, the doors to the truck opened. 

It was dark out save for the artificial lights shining on the exterior of the so-called rehabilitation center. It was a prison. _A shiny, bright, sleek-looking prison._ Crowley made no mistake to think otherwise. They were probably going to be tortured. It was easy to believe the conspiracies that G.O.D. experimented with "reprogramming" human beings.

Crowley would rather eat a bullet. But he wasn't about to give up just yet. Crowley was the optimistic sort, after all.  
  


* * *

Everyone was gathered around Gabriel and Michael, who were preparing to extract Zero from the central computer. It was so quiet, Zero wondered if everyone in the room had stopped breathing altogether. It recognized anxiety in just about every human present.

If anything went wrong, well, they all assumed everyone there would be out of a job at the very least, and Zero might cease to exist. Zero was not worried. The guidelines it helped create were sound. It would work.

Gabriel swallowed hard, feeling a cool sensation on his forehead and realizing he'd begun to sweat. He looked into the computer's camera and smirked nervously. "Are you ready, Zero?"

"Quite!" Exclaimed Zero. If it had lips, it would have been beaming. 

Gabriel stared at the little sphere in his hand without blinking until Michael cleared her throat. "I think it's time, Gabriel."

Gabriel shook his head to rid him of the fear, but it didn't work. "Yeah, sure. Right. Let's do this."

Slowly, with only a slight tremble in his hands, Gabriel placed the little sphere in front of the computer's sensor. Zero obliged by opening the harddrive's slot. Gabriel dropped the ball inside and slot closed with an ominous hiss. There was a loud, whirring sound until Zero's robotic voice announced: "Transfer complete and successful."

The tension lifted in the room, but the procedure was not over.

The computer ejected the spherical harddrive. With gloved hands, Michael picked Zero up and carefully placed him on the table. They had followed Zero's instructions without fault. If the transfer was indeed successful, Zero would have control over moving its brain. It was the last failsafe, implemented at Zero's request for its protection. If ever the brain was forcefully extricated from its frame, it still had the means to roll away to safety. 

The ball grew in size, and small hexagonal pieces began to rearrange themselves. The tiny cameras now covered its surface. Zero should have been able to see and move.

The ball did not move. 

Gabriel and Michael exchanged a worried glance before looking back to the sphere. "Zero?" Gabriel piped up, feeling his heart kicking in his chest. "You in there, buddy? If everything is okay, just roll in a circle."

There was a long moment of silence, and everyone began to panic internally. Suddenly, the sphere rolled around in a ring. Everyone cheered, and Gabriel nearly fainted with relief.

"Splendid," Michael praised. "Now we can insert you into the--"

Zero rocketed off the table.

There were gasp, yelps, and concerned screams. But the ball merely bounced onto the ground and began racing around the lab.

"Oh shit! Somebody grab it!" Gabriel shouted as he tried to cut the golf ball-sized bullet off on the other side. He squatted low to the ground and held out his palms, thinking Zero would just roll into his hands, but Zero had other ideas. At the last minute, it pivoted and went right between Gabriel's legs to circle around the lab again.

At that point, everyone was chuckling with amusement save for Gabriel. Michael outright pointed and laughed at her scowling research partner. The spectacle reminded her of the time her mother chased her pet gerbil around the kitchen, screaming obscenities at the rolling cage that had been just slightly bigger than Zero at the moment. She smiled with the fond memories and quickly push them away before they could turn dark.

Gabriel straightened up and adjusted his lab coat. He clapped his hands hard with a stern frown and commanded everyone to shut up. "Zero, get back here right now! Fun's over! Do you want legs or what?!"

Zero rolled to a stop. It did want legs. It wanted arms. It wanted a head. It wanted a voice. It wanted a body.

"Let her have a little fun." Michael giggled and gave Gabriel a playful smack to the shoulder.

Gabriel turned his head and glared. "Her, now, huh?"

Michael shrugged. "She's just excited."

"This isn't a fucking game," Gabriel snapped.

The sudden outburst made Michael flinch. Gabriel had never spoken to her like that before. Something was wrong. The look in his eyes was more than just angry, there was fear there. "Zero's fine, Gabe. The impacts did nothing to the chamber. It works just like you knew it would."

Gabriel must've realized he'd lost control. He cleared his throat and looked away. "Yeah, sorry. Let's just get this done. The uppers are waiting."

A repurposed military droid was perched on a chair in the middle of the lab, ready for Zero's insertion. Zero turned to Michael's feet and stayed planted there until she picked it up.

"It's time." Michael walked up to the robot as Gabriel opened up the head's chamber. The droid had been cleaned, re-painted, and modulated just for Zero. There were enough small differences between him and the other military droids to tell the machines apart. Michael dropped the sphere into its slot. There was a whirring and clicking sound before the compartment closed on its own. Compressed air escaped from the joints of the frame. Glowing bright blue tubes could be seen in between its hinges unlike the orange of the models before it. 

The sounds finally settled into silence. 

"Hello," Zero greeted, its voice not much different from its previous one. 

The entire room cheered loudly, and some even cried. 

Zero moved its head to face its creators. It looked at Gabriel through its dark glass window, which protected its cameras. "Have I done well?"

Gabriel finally smiled. He nodded and patted Zero's steel shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, you did well." 

Zero wondered why Gabriel's words did not match the emotions in his tone.

"Alright, Zero," Gabriel announced, "you have a new operational directive. I need a full diagnosis, and then we can begin your training."

"Might I request a mirror first?" Zero asked hopefully.

Michael watched Gabriel, who was looking at Zero with an odd expression she could not place. "Sure." Gabriel snapped a finger at an intern who raced off to bring a mirror.

A standing mirror was placed before Zero. It tilted its strange-looking head and flexed its rubber-padded digits, then Zero stood up.

The majority of those present let out awed sounds as Zero towered over them. Zero took a step towards the mirror, and everyone else took a step back in surprise. It peered at the familiar faces and recognized... _fear_. Even Gabriel seemed apprehensive. Zero chose to ignore the reactions, not wanting to scare anyone further. It stayed in place and continued testing small movements and running some tests.

Michael continued to observe carefully. Something was definitely off. Gabriel should have been excited, proud, and trying to take all the credit for the success. Instead, he was quiet and contemplative and staring at Zero like he was sentencing him to death.

Michael placed a consoling hand on Gabriel's shoulder. She tried not to show disappointment when he flinched. Still, he did not move away, at least there was that. "Gabe, Zero is going to be fine. You'll be going with him to the Eastern camp. You'll be there for her, and you'll be able to keep an eye on her. No one will do a better job than you. Well," she smiled wickedly, "except me."

Gabriel looked up with a not-so-convincing smirk. "They just grow up so fast, don't they?" He chuckled. "I'm fine, Michael." He stood up, leaving Michael's hand to slip off his shoulder as he began to look over the diagnostics Zero had sent to his tablet.

The entire lab was dismissed after that as a reward for their hard work. Michael wanted to stay behind, but Gabriel insisted she should go celebrate. Michael, thinking he was having some sort of parental separation anxiety, decided it would probably be best to leave him to it.

Zero sat patiently as Gabriel checked things off. His creator was meticulous with polishing and oiling the frame he occupied. They tested everything: Vision, speech, mobility. 

"There are certain functions that I've been denied access too," Zero mused aloud. "The weapons, primarily."

Gabriel paused, his eyes widening briefly. "You won't need them." It was the most straightforward answer. Zero didn't need to know that there were reservations about having an intelligent, seven-foot-tall juggernaut - that may or may not follow orders - strolling around with lethal artillery.

Zero noticed the silence and scanned its creator. _Frown, narrowed eyes, furrowed eyebrows, pursed lips. Worried? Sad?_ "Is something wrong?"

Gabriel looked down at his checklist again. "Not that I can see. This frame will suit you fine until we can make you something better."

"I don't mean with me. You seem out of sorts."

Gabriel snapped his head up to look at the droid before him. It was different now, looking at a large, somewhat humanoid figure instead of a camera. "Nothing's wrong. Everything is going according to the plan. It's just... You're going to a place where certain things will be out of my control. I won't be the one in charge. You'll have to answer to others. You'll have a specific mission, one with too many variables for me to predict their outcomes."

"Maybe if you explained my mission, I can do a prediction analysis."

Gabriel placed down his tablet. He sat down and picked his words carefully. "You're going to meet new people. Bad people."

Zero remembered it could move and nodded its head. "Yes, the Demons."

"That's right," Gabriel acknowledged. "You're going to be learning from them, listening to them, gathering information, and I don't know what they'll tell you. You're very intelligent, Zero, but like all intelligent things, there's a possibility you could be corrupted and fall in line with the ideals of the enemy."

"Never," Zero replied without hesitation. 

Gabriel smiled and nodded. "Just remember that Demons are heartless, violent humans, and cannot be reasoned with. They're traitors and cannot operate outside of their evil nature."

"Yes, Gabriel. I will endeavor to make you proud."

"Good." Gabriel stood up and patted Zero's head awkwardly, the thought that military droid noggins looked like dicks passed through his mind, not for the first time. He tried not to cringe. "Don't stay up too late. Make sure you're fully charged before we need to head out."

"Of course."

Zero watched Gabriel leave. His creator looked over his shoulder briefly before exiting and locking the door. Zero was happy to have mobility now, freedom. So, it was confused as to why it was not satisfied. _The dark is lonely. But things will be different tomorrow. I will have a proper home and purpose soon._

* * *

  
The rebels were brought into the Eastern Camp. They stood in line to be stripped, searched, and disinfected. Crowley was grabbed roughly by his short red tresses and tossed into a chamber. A forceful spray knocked him into the wall, bruising his naked body. Two droids scrubbed him down until his flesh was pink and raw. "Buy me dinner first, will you?" He couldn't show weakness, especially not in front of his subordinates.

Once he was dry, he was given a plastic bag and told to dress. He made a disgusted noise as he pulled out the plain white garments and white trainers. He turned toward the droid that gave him his clothes. "Got these in black?" he asked with a drawl. 

"Negative," the droid replied. "Now move it."

The Serpent gave the droid a small salute and got dressed. Once he was fully clothed, the droid grabbed him by the shoulders and led him to his cell—a blinding white room with nothing but glass to separate it from the hall. Before he could even reach the small cot in the corner of the room, a voice echoed through the speakers. "Lights out." 

Then all went dark.

Crowley dragged his feet in the direction of the small bed until his legs hit the frame. He dropped down on it, the black in front of his open eyes let Crowley's mind wandered to his unconscious moments right after his head and collided with the pavement. He'd dreamt of home. No, not home. That place had never felt like a home even before everything had gone to shit. His father was a soft man but was hardly around, and his mother... his mother, she had begun to distance herself from him as soon as she suspected he was too flawed for the new system.

So, no, that place had not been his home, and Crowley had long ago given up on the hope of ever having one.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original image above was manipulated to match my description of the military droids. The original image can be found here: https://pixabay.com/photos/figure-collectible-isolated-film-2789098/  
> By: Janson_G / 372 images


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is the "ACT 1 THEY MEET" part of Ms Pac-man lol!
> 
> Yes, our husbands meet in this chapter for the first time!
> 
> I've completed chapter 5 and moving on to 6 today! I think I'll be posting a chapter every time I finish one. But ya'll know I can be fast and post back to back too. I'm sure that will happen.  
> \--------
> 
> WARNING: Bigotry and prejudices will be present throughout this story. Please read the tags. If I miss something, just let me know.
> 
> My Beta Angels (check out their fics!): Azeran, Intergalacticsupertwink, danypooh, WhenYouGrowUpYourHeartDies

The fluorescent lights overhead blinked on with a soft whiz and a pop. Crowley's world went white as soon as his eyelids flew open. He groaned and pressed his palms into his eyeballs, making him see stars instead. It took a moment to realize where he was, and he was surprised he got any sleep at all. He knew his sleep had been fitful from all the sweat the clung to his skin and clothes.

"Good morning, new patients. You'll be quarantined for fourteen days. Once we are certain you are free of disease, you will be able to join the others in group activities. Meals will be served to you in your rooms. A counselor will be assigned to you after your quarantine. For breakfast, today we have gluten-free toast, scrambled eggs, and a fruit and vegetable smoothie that contains essential vitamins and supplements for your health. Thank you for your cooperation."

Crowley held his head in his hands to stop the thumping. The voice over the speaker had been incredibly loud and high-pitched. After a few more moments of letting his eyes adjust, Crowley looked around his room. All the furniture was built-in. A small table and bench. A semi-private toilet and shower and sink with a water fountain spout attached. He looked out of his glass cage. Across the hall, he found Hastur pacing back-and-forth like an angry, bald cat in his own cell and white pajamas. 

Crowley waved at him, catching Hastur's attention. Hastur rested his fists on the glass and shook his head. Crowley held up his hands in what he hoped would convey for him to calm down.

Hastur mouthed something that Crowley could not understand. He finally thought Hastur said the name Beez. Then he lifted his hands and shrugged, shaking his head again with a frown.

It was clear to Crowley that Hastur noticed Beez's absence. Perhaps Beez had a cell further down, but then Hastur pointed diagonally across from him and waved his hands again like saying no one was there.

Crowley nodded in understanding. But what could they do? The only thing to do was to wait for someone to come around and ask questions, and just hope the pricks would answer honestly.  _ Fat chance of that _ , Crowley knew.

Crowley couldn't tell how much time had passed, but a droid finally came by with a tray of food. It placed one tray, and a juice pouch in the steel slot of Crowley's cell then pushed it closed.

"Hey! "Crowley ran to the glass and knocked to get the droid's attention. "Hey! Where is my friend?" The droid didn't seem to hear him and continued the task of feeding the rest of the inmates.

Frustrated, Crowley growled and spun around his room again, his brain trying desperately to figure something out to get out of this mess. But he found nothing. The only thing new to occupy his time was the food. The eggs and toast looked all right, but the bag of juice looked odd. It was a strange brown color. Vitamins and supplements, they had said.  _ God knows what kind of drugs they put in there. _ He decided on not drinking the juice.

It was going to be a long two weeks.

* * *

Zero was charged and ready by the time Gabriel and Michael entered the lab, followed by the rest of the team. Everyone was kind enough to send him off with well wishes. Zero found that it was more excited than sad to be leaving, but it supposed the familiar faces, once lost, would probably be missed soon enough. it could only hope that the next place it was going to would keep it occupied enough not to yearn to come back.

Gabriel seemed nervous, but steadfast. A couple of assistants followed him into the lab with cases and began to pack essential equipment. Once they were finished, and Gabriel double-checked that he had everything he needed, he turned to Zero and gave it a curt nod. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

Michael approached Zero and gazed past his dark pane and into its cameras. She cleared her throat and blinked a few times before placing a tentative hand on its steel arm. "I do believe I'm going to miss you, Zero."

Zero wanted to smile. Its current body was not able to supply him with that gesture. "My communication network will always be active," it reassured.

Michael nodded and swallowed hard. "Yes, I guess I'm just being silly. Still, I don't think things will be the same once you're gone. Just promise me you will be careful. And watch over Big Head." Michael thumbed over her shoulder in Gabriel's direction, who was quietly bickering with his assistant about needing an extra case.

Zero peered at Gabriel, noticing the size of his head, and then looked back to Michael. "His head is only slightly bigger than average for his size, but relatively, it is rather large, I suppose."

Michael bit down on her lower lip to keep from laughing outright. She patted Zero's arm, her eyes climbing higher above its eyes. "I wouldn't talk if I were you."

"Oh, then I shall endeavor to keep silent." 

"No, I mean..." Michael closed her eyes as she grinned. "Maybe just don't mention that in particular."

Zero leaned lower and Michael did her best not to backtrack.

"May I share a farewell embrace? I know it is customary for family and close friends." Michaels's eyes widened. I know I'm merely a--"

"Of course," she all but barked, seemingly surprised at her own outburst. Michael felt incredibly awkward but followed through. She opened her arms and wrapped them as far as she could around Zero's chest plate. She was stiff as a board but was never much of a hugger anyway. It was as good as she was going to give. 

It was Zero's first hug. In theory, Zero found it lovely to be sharing a moment like this with one of its creators. Practically, since it couldn't feel anything, it wondered if it should even be counted as an embrace. Regardless, Zero lifted its hands and very slowly placed them on Michael's shoulders. 

Someone cleared their throat nearby and Michael jumped away, Zero immediately lifting its hands as not to hurt her. They found Gabriel standing there gaping at them incredulously. Michael straightened her lab coat, feeling her cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment.

Gabriel finally snapped his mouth shut and smirked with a glint in his eye. “Do I get a hug too?” he crooned. 

“Of course, Gabriel,” Zero exclaimed happily as it took a much too eager step toward him with its large arms outstretched. 

Gabriel's eyes bugged out and before he could retract his statement, mechanical arms enveloped him and squeezed just a bit too tight. “No,” he grated through clenched teeth, “I meant from her!”

Zero froze. “Oh dear me, my apologies.” It released Gabriel with its head hanging in shame and returned to its former position.

Michael would have laughed had she not been so shocked. She said nothing, thinking that Gabriel would let it go because, of course, he must have been joking.

After a small glare at his creation, Gabriel turned towards Michael and raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Well?” He shrugged and opened his arms with a pout.

Michael could have swallowed her tongue right then and there. And she might as well have because she couldn't think of a single thing to say. Michael decided to flee. “I'll be visiting you at the facility in a week's time.” She spun on her heel and marched out of the lab.

Gabriel and Zero shared a look. “Women, am I right?”

Zero tested out a shrug. “She is a woman, yes.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Come on, let's go.”

Zero followed Gabriel but suddenly halted at the open door. Gabriel continued until he realized Zero was not following. He turned around then looked from side to side, finally, he understood what was happening. If Zero was experiencing fear, that would be interesting to note. “Are you afraid?”

Zero stuck the tip of its mechanical toe just outside of the lab before peeking its head out too. “I don't think so,” it responded. “But this is a monumental step for me, I suppose. I've only ever known the lab.” 

Zero peered down the hall on either side of it and noticed four military droids that looked very much like its own form. It was also the first time Zero had laid eyes on other AI like itself. Well, not exactly like itself. The droids present were older models. “Hello,” Zero greeted its brethren. 

The droids did not respond to Zero’s disappointment.

Gabriel looked from the other machines to his creation. “This  _ is _ a big step for you. But don't worry. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere.”

Zero could not pinpoint the new emotional response information it was suddenly flooded with.  _ Gratitude?  _ “Thank you, Gabriel.”

Gabriel winked and waved Zero out of the doorway.

Zero looked from Gabriel to its own feet several times before decisively lifting a leg and stepping out of the lab entirely. It was immensely proud of itself. 

“Come on, Tinman,” Gabriel grinned.

“My frame is not made of tin, Gabriel. I thought you were aware of that. It would not be wise, seeing as there are so many parts to account for. Considering the size of the frame, tin would not be a reliable metal. Not to mention the material itself--”

“Please stop.”

“Right.”

* * *

Crowley guessed it was about the late afternoon when an actual human being in a protective suit walked right up to Hastur’s cell accompanied by two droids. Crowley shot out of bed and pressed his ear against the glass but to no avail. He couldn’t hear a thing.

Crowley watched and tried to read Hastur’s lips. He was quite certain he caught “Fuck off” and “Kiss my pale white arse.” Then Hastur’s glass cage began to fill with some kind of mist. Crowley saw fear take root in Hastur’s eyes as they both began to bang on their respective glass walls.

“Leave him alone!” Crowley yelled, panic filling his very soul. He banged as hard as his heart was beating until the glass began to wobble. “Stop it!!”

No one paid any attention to him save for Hastur, who had locked eyes with Crowley as he slid to the ground unconscious. Crowley continued to scream obscenities until his throat grew raw. The droids entered Hastur’s cell and picked him up by his arms and legs. Whoever was in the suit was not bothered by Crowley at all. They merely walked away, the droids following dutifully behind. 

* * *

The container that Zero was sitting in had no windows. It was a shame; Zero had been excited to see the outside world. It hadn't really seen much going from the lab to its traveling container. Even so, without being able to see a thing, Zero kept track of the mileage per hour and every single turn, then filed the information away. At least it would know how to get back to the lab should the need arise.  _ Not that there would be a need for it, _ Zero thought. 

The trip grew boring very quickly. No one had told Zero how long it would take to get to the new facility. Gabriel had forgotten to update Zero’s library, so Zero had nothing new to read. Having nowhere to go, no one to talk to, stuck in a box like a... a...a … _tool_. It was… it was… _depressing is what it is_ , it thought bitterly. A human would certainly not travel this way! Gabriel would have been in the blasted, confined space with it if that were the case! No network to connect to. No new data. No _nothing!_ _Oh! This is resentment. Yes, definitely resentment._ Zero didn’t like it. It wanted to be happy and polite and grateful, always! There was no room for something as useless as resentment or bitterness. Zero should be grateful it was alive! _Alive_ … Zero wondered if anyone else thought of it as a living thing. Surely, its creators did. Surely. _Surely… except… you wouldn’t be traveling with all the other luggage if they did._ Zero caught itself going down a sad thought path again. It would not do. It’s creators knew best. This was for its protection. _It’s my own fault that I’m feeling this way. Am I being petty? I certainly feel petulant. Oh! Pride! I have pride! That’s a good thing! Right?_

Not wanting to give itself a chance to think about whether it was a good or bad thing, Zero rummaged around its internal data storage and found…  _ Music!  _ Oh, yes, music was something it liked very much.  _ Let’s see. Mozart, Beethoven, Bach… ooooo! Gossec!  _

“Oh, yes, I do so love this one!” 

Meanwhile, in the main cab of the transport truck, Gabriel was rehearsing the introduction he’d prepared for his arrival at his new position when--

A loud and cheery violin and piano duet nearly blasted Gabriel’s brains out. The driver swerved and the truck screeched to a stop while Gabriel’s tablet flew out the open window, shattering into as many pieces as Gabriel’s eardrums. They were instantly surrounded by military droids, all pointing their weapons in his direction.

It took a moment to realize that Gossec’s Gavotte in D major was what nearly riddled them all with bullets. Gabriel growled and gave the command to stand down. He kicked his door open, the music still happily letting the whole fucking world know where the most important, ultra-secret weapon was located. He marched to the back of the truck and threw open the door and then Zero’s traveling container only to be blown back by the sound waves. Gabriel covered his ears and when he finally opened his eyes, he found Zero--

_ Dancing. _ Or something close to it, anyway.

“Pah pa pa paah pa paa pa-pa! Pah doo-doo-doo--OH! Gabriel,” Zero exclaimed and turned off the music. “Are we there yet?”

It was exactly four hours and twenty minutes before the truck finally came to a stop. Zero heard sounds of airlock doors opening before the truck rolled forward again. The airlock doors shut once more and Zero’s container was opened. The first thing to greet him was more military droids, a different set of four, judging by their serial numbers.

“Hello,” Zero tried again, hoping these were different. This time the droids responded.

“Please exit the vehicle.”

For a moment, Zero was thrilled that one of them had spoken back. Zero considered itself polite and it wanted to make a good impression in this new place. “ It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm very glad to be here. Hopefully, we'll be good friends soon. I'm sure you'll have a lot to teach me.”

“Please exit the vehicle,” the Droid repeated.

Zero’s shoulders slumped. These were no different either. Without another word, Zero stepped out of the container and followed the droids toward a group of humans talking amongst themselves. Gabriel was among them and noticed Zero approaching. He turned toward it with a proud and brilliant smile.

“And this is AI-NGL-0! The first of the Angels.”

The woman Gabriel had addressed did not look impressed. Her dark brown eyes gave Zero a quick once-over. “It looks like all the others.”

Zero continued walking until it reached Gabriel’s side. It looked at every human and then at the droids.

“I can assure you,” Gabriel drawled a bit pompously, “Zero is nothing like the others.”

“Zero?” The woman replied with an arch of her brow.

“That's what we call it for short. Nickname…” Gabriel trailed off awkwardly. “Uh, anyway, Zero might look like any other military droid on the outside, but on the inside, “he tapped his temple for emphasis, “Zero is far superior.”

Zero thought that was the best window to introduce itself. “Greetings,” Zero announced suddenly, making everyone flinch as if they didn't know it had been standing there the entire time. 

One of the other humans, a short, bald, but rather round man tilted his head and addressed Gabriel. “Did you program it to do that?”

Gabriel opened his mouth to reply but Zero spoke instead.

“If by programmed you mean taught manners, yes. Good afternoon. I would be honored to know your names and get to know you better.”

There was an awkward silence before the round man scoffed. “Interesting,” he muttered.

The woman eyed Zero shrewdly. “Welcome Zero, I am Dr. Uriel Wood. You may call me Dr. Uriel.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Uriel. I am quite excited to learn more about my purpose here.”

The humans gave each other pointed looks and then gawked at Gabriel. “It's excited?” The round man muttered.

Gabriel chuckled nervously. “As I said, not like the others.”

“As impressive as this is,” Uriel continued, “we have work to do. Zero, If you do have the ability to make choices, you need to understand your place here. We will tell you what to do and when to do it. For the safety of everyone here, you must adhere to your directive, and only your directive.”

“Of course, Dr. Uriel. I would never do otherwise.”

“Sandalphon, sir,” a kind looking young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes piped up. “One of our patients is in distress. Normally we would ignore this outburst, but his heart rate has been above normal for some time.” 

“Which patient,” Sandalphon said as he stared at Zero without blinking.

“The Serpent, sir.”

Zero snapped its head to the young woman. “There's a serpent here?! Oh, how exciting. Is there some time for me to see it? They are fascinating creatures so I’ve read. I hope It likes me”. He mused aloud. 

Sandalphon snorted and even Uriel couldn't help a small twitch of her lips. “Well, Dr. Archangel, the Serpent is under your jurisdiction now. What do you want to do about it?”

Sandalphon was silent as he led Gabriel and Zero to a set of double doors. He swiped his watch in front of a sensor and the doors opened. He finally addressed them once they made their way in. “Your office is two doors to the left. There are monitors for your…  _ experiment _ .” He looked at Zero up and down with contempt. “The Serpent is a very valuable asset. I'd get to him before he kills himself in there.” he had said that nonchalantly like it didn't matter to him one way or the other. Then he left the same way they came in.

It was the first time Zero felt…  _ perturbed _ . “Oh, dear,” Zero said, worried. “You don't think the Serpent has expired, do you? I was really hoping I could hold it.”

Gabriel’s whole body seemed to sigh with exhaustion. “All right Zero, time to let you in on your directive.” Gabriel lifted his watch and began to type on his virtual keyboard. 

Suddenly, information poured into Zero’s mind. “Ah,” it let out in slight disappointment. “The Serpent is a human, Demon, and you want me to observe him?”

Gabriel nodded and began walking toward his new office. “And the others in the ward as well. Feel free to interact with them as much as you want. Tell them you are their new guard. I want to see how things play out naturally. I don't want them to be suspicious of you more than they already will be. This would have been so much easier if they had waited for you to be completed, but whatever, what do I know? I’m only the head of the Angel Project,” he grumbled the last bit.

“Why would the patients be suspicious of me?”

“Zero,” Gabriel looked up and grimaced briefly, “the Demons don't like droids.”

“Oh… I see.”

* * *

Crowley was red-faced with veins bulging on his forehead, his hands were near bleeding from the continuous onslaught of the glass. His voice had nearly gone out completely, his screams coming out in harsh rasps and croaks.

“YOU FUCKING SCUM! WHERE ARE MY FRIENDS?! WANT TO FUCK WITH SOMEONE?!” He spread his arms wide. “I'M RIGHT HERE, PRICKS! I'M NOT GOING TO STOP! NOT, UNTIL YOU TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!”

A military droid finally came into view.

Crowley glared at it, not done with his rabid outburst–especially now there was something to aim his fury at. He banged on the glass again. “I'M GOING TO TAKE YOU APART AND TURN YOU INTO ALUMINUM SHITTERS! EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!”

The droid pressed the button on the intercom, surprising Crowley. They stared each other down on opposite sides of the glass for a long moment before the droid finally addressed him. “Hello there! I daresay, it appeared as if you were screaming some obscenities and threats. Unfortunately, I did not hear a single word of it. I can hear you now, though. Would you like to try again?”

Crowley's mouth dropped into a deep frown as he flinched back. That was definitely not what he expected. In fact, it was so unexpected that he was completely thrown off and nearly couldn’t form his next words. 

“Um, yeah… yeah! Yeah! Where are Hastur and Beez?!”

“I'm afraid I don't know who you are referring to. I’m new here.” The droid jolted suddenly and placed a metal hand to its chest plate. “Oh, how incredibly rude of me! I haven’t introduced myself!” It motioned to itself grandly with both hands and even gave a small bow to boot. “I am AI-NGL-0, or Angel Zero if you prefer, but you may also call me Zero if it’s easier, which I understand it is. And you, my dear fellow, to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

_ The fuck?! _ Crowley thought. This droid did not sound like any other one he’d ever come in contact with. Sure it had a similar tone, computer-generated voice, and all, but the  _ way _ it spoke was vastly different. The thing sounded like a chipper ol’ granny about to offer him tea and biscuits! 

“ _ What _ the fuck  _ are _ you?!” If the thing had sported a face, Crowley imagined it would be frowning with disapproval by the way it reacted.

“Oh, really now, there's no need for foul language,” said the droid, leaving Crowley blinking and wondering if he was hallucinating. It straightened up and puffed out its chest, haughtily. “And, for your information, I am a  _ who _ , not a  _ what _ .” It slumped a bit and clasped its fingers together…  _ nervously? _ “Or, at least, I’m  _ trying _ to be… a bit difficult right now when I’m in...” It unclasped its hands and motioned at itself up and down, “in  _ this _ .”

Crowley blinked in quick succession, hoping it would dispel whatever fever dream he was in. When that didn’t work, Crowley tried to peek around the machine. The thing turned full circle, probably wondering what he was looking for. It stared at the empty cell across, then turned back to Crowley.

The droid pointed behind itself. “Was Hastur and Beez previously occupying that room?”

The question made Crowley see red. He pressed his nose to the glass and growled with as much hatred as he could muster. “You know very well  _ who _ was in that  _ cage _ . Your lot took him!”

The droid stayed silent for a moment, tilting its head and considering its words. “I assume you mean the other droids took him. They aren’t exactly my lot. I’m not like them.”

Crowley threw his head back and let out a crazed laugh. “If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it’s a  _ bloody _ duck!”

The droid actually took a step back and straightened. “I, rude sir, am not a duck! I don't even remotely look like a duck. Although I've never seen a duck in person, I do know what a duck looks like. I don't think I can walk like one either–at least not in this frame. But! I can quack like one. Observe.” 

Suddenly the sound of a flock of ducks quacking erupted from its voicebox. It was so loud that Crowley couldn’t help but jump back and cover his ears. 

An awkward silence remained after the ridiculous cacophony ended.

The droid slumped again and fidgeted with its fingers. “That was actually a sample recording… not really me… I really don’t think I could sound like a duck with this limited voicebox.”

Was the thing…  _ ashamed?! _ Crowley's whole body deflated. “I’m in the fucking Twilight Zone,” he whimpered, pathetically.

“Actually, you are in the Eastern Rehabilitation Center,” the droid supplied helpfully. “I don't know where the Twilight Zone is, I'm afraid.”

Crowley stared at the infernal machine feeling like it had eaten his soul. He turned around and dragged himself to the bed. He dropped into it face down like a plank of wood and mumbled something into his pillow.

“I didn’t quite catch that--”

Crowley snapped his head up enough to yell. “Go away!”

The droid let out the robot equivalent to an annoyed Huff. “I have been nothing but polite. All you've done is yell at me and insult my intelligence. Maybe after you get some rest your manners will return to you tomorrow morning.” 

Before the droid could turn off the intercom, Crowley scoffed and shouted again. “Fat chance, you overgrown, COCK!”

“If I could gasp in horror right now, I would,” the droid droned. “You are the vilest human I have ever encountered! I know I haven’t met many, but still! You are just horrid!”

Crowley scrambled out of bed and charged for the glass. “MAYBE THAT’S BECAUSE I’M IN A SODDING CAGE AND DON’T KNOW WHERE YOU TOOK MY  _ FRIENDS _ !” Crowley heaved and panted until his face went numb, then he felt the angry sting of tears well up before he could stop them. He covered his face and turned away from the thing watching him silently. “Just leave me alone. I’m sure you’ll come for me soon enough and throw me in whatever mass grave you’ve dug up for rubbish like me, eh? So, I’ll find out where they are anyway.”

When Crowley didn’t hear a response, he looked over his shoulder to find the droid gone. For some reason, its absence only made him feel worse.

He was alone.

Again.

“No surprise there,” he muttered as the light went out and pitched everything into blackness.

  
  


Zero waited until the lights went off before turning on its night vision and peeking into the Serpents cell again. It watched silently as the man struggled to find his bed in the dark. Once the Serpent was in his bed and turned away, Zero moved closer and watched over its charge until his vitals were back to normal. The man fell asleep almost instantly.

Zero stared in wonder, curiosity piqued in a way it had never known before. The range of emotions that this human had gone through in such a short amount of time was astounding to Zero. It had never seen anything like it. It had never seen a human… cry. The information Zero had gathered processed in its mind, the conversation playing on a loop at lightspeed until Zero finally stripped it down to its core.

The Serpent was in pain. The word seemed like an understatement to Zero.  _ Anguished. Tortured. Devastated.  _

_ Empathy, _ Zero thought.  _ How would I feel if Michael or Gabriel had been taken by emotionless machines, never to know when or if I would ever see them again? _

The idea was terrifying. He’d be completely alone then and never to know if its creators were happy or suffering as much as Zero. 

“Oh, dear,” Zero said as its musings began to overwhelm it. That would not do. Zero marched to the room across from the Serpent. It brought up a finger to the computer on the wall beside the intercom. An input drive ejected out of one digit and was inserted. In less than a second, Zero knew where Hastur was. 

“Bingo, as they say. I think.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got off on the wrong foot, huh? lol  
> Has anyone come up with theories yet on where this is headed? I'd love to hear them!  
> \-----------  
> The image in this chapter is a composite of my Crowley and the same person who made the droid. The image was slightly manipulated to better suit the descriptions in the story. The droid image can be found here: https://pixabay.com/photos/figure-collectible-isolated-film-2789098/  
> by Janson_G / 372 images


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how long it's taken to post this one! Chapter 5&6 needed major adjustments. I'm not quite done with 6 yet but 5 is now 17 pages hahaha ::cries::
> 
> WARNING: Bigotry and prejudices will be present throughout this story. Please read the tags. If I miss something, just let me know.
> 
> My Beta Angels (check out their fics!): Azeran, Intergalacticsupertwink, danypooh.

Crowley knew it had only been a couple of days, but it felt like an eternity since he last saw the sun. He didn't do well in confined spaces in the best of times. He needed the open air. Freedom. 

It was morning again. He knew because the lights had just blinded him. He groaned loudly. 

"Bored! So, so bored…"

"Good morning!" Greeted a robotic voice that sent Crowley jumping at least three feet up in the air before tumbling out of bed. 

Crowley was still wrestling the sheet that had somehow trapped him in some kind of burrito-like vice. "Jesus tap-dancing Christ!" He glared up at the droid and sneered. "Good morning? Yeah, sure. Because it's always a good morning when you wake up a hostage." 

The droid shook its head disapprovingly. "Now, don't be a bad sport. You would have avoided this predicament by following the law… or at least by being a better rebel and not getting yourself caught."

Crowley's mouth dropped open. He lifted a finger and made a noise as if to argue but came up with nothing. "You're a right bastard," he said instead, finally untangling himself from the infernal sheet's clutches.

"And you are rude. Goodness. I come here bearing good news for you, and you've already insulted me. Are you always this way?"

As suave as possible, Crowley stood up and swaggered with exaggeration toward the semi-private toilet. "Unless you've come to release me, I don't give a fuck what comes out of those bollock speakers of yours,  _ droid. _ " He stared at the machine over the short wall and began to piss.

Zero jolted. "Are you… eliminating waste?"

Crowley arched a brow. "Why? Wanna peek?" For a moment, Crowley wondered if the machine was malfunctioning. Its head and limbs jerked for several seconds before it finally cradled its face in its hands and let out what sounded like an extended error notification. He wondered if that was its attempt at a groan. The all too human reaction unsettled Crowley and memories of the previous evening came to mind.

The thing was different from the other droids somehow.

"You a puppet?" Crowley asked as he finished his business, flushed, and made his way to the sink.

Zero perked up. "Excuse me?"

"You know," Crowley washed his hands lazily and peered over his shoulder. "A puppet. A human operating a robot from a different room or something?"

Zero straightened and placed its steel fists on his hips. "I am an Angel. The first of my kind. I am most certainly not a puppet, pardon yourself!"

Crowley sucked in his lower lip and narrowed his eyes at the machine. After drying his hands, he sauntered closer to the glass partition and stared up at the thing. It was insulted. "How quaint," he murmured in slight wonder, "an angel, eh? Where are your wings and halo?"

"Not a literal angel!" Zero wanted to let out an indignant huff, but only managed that grating noise meant to notify passersby that it was backing up. "Honestly," it berated, "AI-NGL, pronounced Angel, stands for Artificial Intelligent Network Gated Life."

Crowley crossed his arms, giving Zero a dubious look before chuckling. "An AI. You're a program. So, you  _ are _ a puppet of sorts."

"I am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Sore spot for you, is it?" Crowley needled. "Can't accept there is nothing  _ living _ about you. That you're not a person. That everything you do is decided by a combination of numbers that your masters put in that cockhead of yours? That you're just like every other hunk of metal walking around here?"

Zero stayed silent for a long moment before taking a small step closer to the glass. "Patient 10-357-24, Beatrice Biswell is in the infirmary recovering from her injuries. Patient 10-274-13, Hastur Giddings, has been transferred to the Labor Team and assisting with the construction of another ward. He's been given a purpose while he receives treatment. Unlike you, who has no purpose but to threaten and deride those who wish to help you."

There was another long moment of silence as Crowley processed the information given to him. It could all be a lie, but was the thing able to lie? Maybe if it was programmed to lie to him. Still, the droid was the only one to speak to him and give him answers, so Crowley decided quickly he was probably better off playing nice for the time being. 

Before Zero turned off the intercom, Crowley spoke again. "Thanksss," Crowley managed to hiss out reluctantly. "And hey," he lifted his hands in surrender, "no hard feelings–if you can even  _ feel _ . I'm not considered a person here either. So, we have that in common."

Zero said nothing. He turned off the intercom and marched out of sight, and another droid rolling a cart of food trays was before him.

Crowley waved at the droid, but it did not react. He knocked. Nothing. The droid was onto the next cell as Crowley scrutinized it for physical differences from Zero. This droid glowed a bit orange between its joints, Zero's glowed blue.

Ignoring his breakfast, Crowley paced in his cell. There was nothing in the room that could help him. Outside it, however? There was Zero. If the droid had been telling the truth, why would it bother giving him information about his friends? Maybe it was false information, after all. It was hard to know because the thing wasn't human, had no facial expressions, or tells. The body language was only apparent when it moved with exaggeration.

Whether or not the droid was truthful, Crowley had to find a way to befriend it somehow. If it was a human behind the curtain, that would be easy enough. But if Zero was really just an intelligent program, Crowley was fucked. Even so, at least he could get some information out of it, which was better than nothing.

Now the only question left was when or if Crowley would see the odd droid again.

* * *

Zero stood immobile in Gabriel's office as it waited for him to return from his lunch break. All morning, Zero mused on its conversations with the Serpent. Zero wanted to be upset with the man but found it was only more curious than before. It wanted to go back and talk with him some more. 

_ A puppet, _ Zero nearly repeated aloud. Zero decided to take that as a compliment rather than the insult it was meant to be. If he really thought Zero was just a robotic husk with a human behind its words and movements, then Zero had passed off as, at least, somewhat human! That was an exciting thought. 

Again, Zero replayed the interactions with the Serpent.  _ There was nothing but the truth in everything he said. He really does believe his captors are cruel and mean him and his friends harm. The poor dear has no idea he follows false ideals. Maybe I can befriend him and show him his errors. _

The door to the office opened. Gabriel strutted past Zero and plopped down behind his desk. "Gabriel?"

"Hm?" Gabriel hummed absentmindedly while swiping through his tablet.

Zero stepped forward. "May I revisit a patient today? Maybe in the evening, actually." 

"Which patient?"

"The Serpent."

Gabriel's eyebrows shot up over his screen as he met Zero's eye. He placed the tablet down, steepled his fingers under his chin, and leaned back. "Have you discovered something while reviewing your visit this morning?"

"Nothing noteworthy, I think… except, I wonder why he is so determined to be so… mean."

Gabriel smirked. "Did Crowley say something that bothered you?" 

This was a question Gabriel had hoped would come up. Zero merely repeated its conversations with the patients it had seen in the morning. He had no further comments or questions at the time. But Gabriel had watched Zero, and the way it acted with Crowley was different than how he acted with everyone else. Crowley had been rude, but what caught Garbiel's attention was how passive Zero became after practically being called a slave.

"At the time, yes," Zero admitted. "However, after some thought, I realized that his attitude is due to what he believes us to be and not merely because he is imprisoned."

"Quarantined," Gabriel corrected. "This isn't a prison. It's a rehab center."

"Right, of course. But Crowley believes he's a prisoner. Perhaps if he were given some privileges, he might be more amenable to converse with a better disposition. He doesn't trust me, and I don't think he ever will whilst I’m in this form. He clearly does not like droids."

Gabriel nodded and waved a hand, dismissively, "Michael is working on it. You’ll have a new frame soon. More humanoid."

"Oh!" Zero exclaimed. "That's wonderful news! Is there a way to have a more versatile voice box too? I think that will help in befriending him as well."

Gabriel practically heard a record scratch in his head. "Befriend him?"

Zero stilled at the sudden shift in Gabriel's tone. It was clear that Gabriel was having trouble keeping his displeasure from showing. Zero proceeded with caution. "Well, I assumed that my directive was to get information from him? Possible rebel secrets that would help our side's efforts. I don't think Crowley will divulge any helpful information if he sees me as an enemy. But he values friendship, from what I've gathered. If he considered me a friend and knew I only mean to help him, perhaps he'd be more receptive to his treatment and join our side."

Gabriel's mind reeled. "Do you mean to deceive him?" He nearly shouted. He hadn't tested out if Zero was capable of lying, let alone assuming a personality and identity to pull the wool over someone's head.

"Of course not!" Zero bristled. "That would be unethical. I just want to be a good influence and show him we are not enemies."

The corner of Gabriel's mouth twitched before he put on his best polite smile. "That was not the directive I gave you, Zero. Whether or not you assume correctly, I need you to follow orders exactly. You just need to converse with the inmates. That's all."

"You mean… patients."

Gabriel inhaled sharply and picked up his tablet again. "Yeah. Patients. Just get to know them. We will continue our discussions after every visit to see your progress with social skills."

Zero did not miss the evading tactic or the way Gabriel tensed while correcting himself. Gabriel didn't usually enjoy being corrected, but Zero wondered if there was something more to it. It pushed those thoughts aside. 

It was probably nothing. Gabriel was always honest with Zero. Zero had complete trust in his creator. 

"Anything else you'd like to discuss?" Gabriel questioned, raising his brow expectantly. 

It appeared to Zero there might be something specific on Gabriel's mind. In fact, there was something else Zero wished to discuss, but for some reason, it decided to shelve that as well. "Not at this time," it replied.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes briefly and then shrugged. "Okay. I'll see what I can do about some special privileges for the, um, patients. If that's what it will take to have them open up to you more, then I don't think it will be a problem to get something approved."

Zero nearly jumped with joy. "Excellent! I think it will help immensely."   
  


* * *

Crowley's knees would not stop bouncing. He tried to quell his anxious energy, but the more time he spent in his cell doing fuck-all nothing, the more he was in danger of losing his wits. "Where's that bloody robot," he grumbled while tightening his grip on his thighs, stilling his legs for the umpteenth time. 

Crowley jumped from his seat on the bed when a droid came into view. "Hey!" He called out with what he hoped sounded like cheer, and not at all desperation.

The droid dragged a cart of food into view.

"Oh," Crowley deflated and groaned, turning toward the back wall and tugging on his red locks with frustration. "Not granny-droid."

"Granny-droid?"

Crowley's eyes widened before he whirled around to find two droids at the partition. The one with the food cart finished its business and continued its mission of feeding everyone else, leaving Crowley and Zero alone.

"Hey," Crowley let out on a nervous chuckle. "I was wondering if I'd see you again," he laid on the charm thick. Crowley swaggered towards the glass and leaned casually.

"You were?" Zero questioned, taking steps closer to the patient, clearly surprised.

Crowley gave his best debonair smirk. He had no idea if flirting would work, but why not? "Yeah, you're the only one who gives me the time of day here so…" he trailed off, noticing the droid was sporting a messenger bag. "What's that?"

Zero looked to Crowley's eye line. "Oh! Yes, I brought something for you. A peace offering." Zero wanted to chuckle at Crowley's shocked expression. It opened the bag and removed a large book. "You may wish to remove your food contents. I'm supposed to give this back once you're finished with it. I don't think anyone will appreciate it getting stained with tomato sauce." It held the book up for Crowley to see and faltered at the expression on Crowley's face. "Are you all right? Do you not want it?"

Crowley snapped his mouth closed. He could feel the color draining from his face. "Oh, um, that's, erm, nice." Awkwardly, he removed his tray and put it aside. Zero placed the book in the slot and closed it. Crowley picked up the book. It had been years since he'd held a physical copy in his hands. He swallowed hard and stared at the cover. "Thanks," he whispered.

Zero watched intently as Crowley's honey-colored eyes squinted at the cover.  _ Pale. Erratic eye movement. Fear? Blushing now. Embarrassed? Temperature spike. _ "Oh…" Zero let out in realization. "You can't read."

Crowley clutched the book to his chest. "I can too!" He spat out all too defensively. His shoulders slumped abruptly, and he looked at his bare feet. "I can," he murmured, "just not… well."

"Were you not taught–"

"Of course, I was!" Crowley barked, anger and embarrassment swirling behind his eyes. "I just–ugh! Something's wrong with my brain, alright?! Is that what you want to hear? I have other flaws too that got me cast out, would you like to hear them all?" Crowley sneered. "I have the list memorized–"

"Cast out?" Zero took another step forward. "Cast out from where?"

Crowley's ire left him only to be replaced with walls he'd spent years building around himself. "You know that already," he replied dryly.

"I assure you that I don't. I have not been given any of your histories." Zero watched and waited patiently as Crowley gave it a dubious once over. 

"What do you want from me?" Crowley murmured, a hint of warning in his tone.

"My directive is to socialize with the patients of this ward. I'm here to learn from you all. Learn how to communicate with a variety of people. It's part of my curriculum."

Crowley shook his head slowly, his eyes glinting with a bit of mischief. "Is that what they told you? Is that what they  _ programmed _ in you?"

Zero took a step back. It didn't know how to respond and was struck with awe at the notion. It was speechless. Again, Crowley used Zero's lack of humanity as a weapon, and Zero found that it was bothered. "I was programmed to learn and recognize feelings. My education is ongoing, like humans, through experience. Knowledge was not built-in to my programming, only curiosity."

Crowley smirked. "Sure. So, you're like a big kid, learning as you go?"

"I suppose that is a good example as any, though I do not see myself as a child. A bit insulting to be called that, to be quite honest." Zero straightened and tilted its chin up. It was clear that the human found Zero amusing, and it didn't like that.

"Yeah?" Crowley grinned wider. "How old are you?"

Zero stood prouder. It was delighted that Crowley wished to know more about it. "I am eight years, two months, and nineteen days old."

Crowley snickered. "Sounds like a kid to me."

Zero wanted to growl with frustration. "My knowledge surpasses that of a human eight-year-old, Crowley."

Upon hearing his name from the droid for the first time, Crowley had to take a moment to process his surprise. He was getting somewhere. It was time to return the familiarity. "I don't doubt that… Zero," he murmured truthfully.

Zero flinched back. Crowley had used its unofficial name, like addressing… a person. It barely noticed clasping its hands nervously before it. Zero knew this to be a significant turning point. "Would you…" it trailed off, embarrassed and wondering if it should continue.

Crowley waited impassively, but it appeared the droid needed further prompting. "Would I what?"

"Oh, I was wondering if you'd be at all amenable to me," it twisted its metal fingers for a quiet moment, "reading to you." It could not meet Crowley's eye, expecting immediate reproach and anger."

Crowley could not help a gasp. He was completely thrown off and almost forgot his prerogative. "Uh, sure, maybe… later," he replied awkwardly.

Zero snapped its gaze to Crowley's confused face. "Splendid!" They shared a strange, silent moment before Zero's curiosity got the better of it. "Dyslexia?"

Crowley frowned. "Yeah," he bit out defensively. 

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Hardly your fault".

Crowley scoffed and pushed himself away from the glass. "Tell that to your people." 

Zero noticed that regardless of Crowley's souring mood, the man treated the book like a fragile, precious thing as he placed it gingerly on his bed. It was glad at that moment that it did not have a face because it would have been smiling stupidly. Still, Crowley's last comment piqued its interest again.

"What does that mean?"

Crowley turned to look at Zero, annoyance clearly written in a scowl. Crowley wondered if this thing was just having him on, trying to gain his trust and fish for more important information. 

He played along. "You don't know, do you?" Crowley shook his head and sighed dramatically. "There are certain qualifications one must meet to be part of  _ society _ . To live in Eden. To get honest work. To be considered a fucking person, really."

The bitterness and resentment were evident in Crowley's tone. Zero looked at the floor and thought. It was impossible that a mere learning disability would have deemed Crowley an outcast. There had to be more. Something Crowley had done must have been significant enough to be ostracized. The poor man didn't think he was good enough to be on the right side. Zero felt the need to change this way of thinking in the man before it.

"Is that all it took?" Zero asked, expecting an affirmative.

Crowley chuckled. "No. I don't measure up in a lot of ways."

"Then what else brought you here? You said you had a list."

Crowley pursed his lips and closed his eyes. The list was long and painful, but he needed to gain Zero's trust. He snapped his eyes open and scrutinized the machine. "Do you really want to know?"

"I do."

"Why?"

Zero took its time coming up with the right words that it was told would gain Crowley's respect. "I want to learn what circumstances turned you into the miserable arsehole you are." For a long moment, Zero wondered if it had miscalculated its approach, but then Crowley burst out laughing. A genuine, loud, hearty laugh. And wasn't that something? 

Zero scanned him, the genuine mirth, the crooked teeth, the crinkling around Crowley's eyes, the deep and open guffaws, and was struck dumb. Something new took root within Zero. _What is this? Happiness? Wonder? Awe? Beauty…_ _he is beautiful._ The thought came unexpectedly. Beauty was not a feeling… or was it? _It's something else… Noted for further discussion with Gabriel._

Crowley wiped a tear and trailed off with a breathy chuckle. "Hearing little Mr. Prim and Proper, say arsehole in that voice," he laughed again, "wow." He applauded Zero and winked at it. "Alright, how about we make a deal. You provide me with some entertainment, and I answer one question, truthfully, in exchange." He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Deal accepted," Zero replied with no hesitation. "I… noticed you called me Mr., do you see me as a man?" It asked, hopefully.

Crowley's smile faltered. If he didn't know better, the thing desired to be his equal. "It was a figure of speech." He noticed Zero slump slightly. He'd been correct. The robot wanted to be accepted and treated like a person. "You know," Crowley tempted, "if you don't want to be seen as a brainless machine, you might want to consider changing your look. If you can even make choices for yourself, that is."

"Oh, I can! And I will!" Zero exclaimed excitedly. "Unfortunately, my frame and neural network are not ready for me yet."

"Well, start with something else." Crowley pondered on what would give Zero's superiors the most headaches. "Freewill," he murmured without realizing. He smiled. Nothing worse than a robot who could make its own choices and conjectures. "Zero."

"Yes?"

"If you want to prove to yourself and to others that you are more than just a program, and you can, in fact, make choices–which I doubt. No offense. Choose a name for yourself."

"But, I have a name."

"Do you like it?" Crowley asked with genuine curiosity. 

Zero thought hard on it. "I… I don't know. I never thought about it. I don't think I'm allowed to change a name that's already been given to me."

"Ah," Crowley nodded sagely with a pout, "so you are a puppet."

Zero nearly jumped in outrage. "Am not!"

Crowley shrugged and turned his back on the droid. "Prove it." He grinned and waited for Zero's retort.

"Fine!"

A shit-eating grin spread wide on Crowley's face. The droid had taken the bait. "Gotta come up with it now, or I'll just think someone  _ programmed _ it in you."

Zero went through an entire database of baby name books and still could not choose. Could it be that Crowley was right? Did Zero not have the capacity to make its own choices? Zero was determined to prove Crowley wrong. It moved on to other books and scanned for names of literary protagonists. Zero liked some but wanted to drive a point home. It scanned several languages and root words, trying different combinations, and then searching for matches. When it finally landed on a combination that had no matches, Zero actually jumped and blurted it out.

"Aziraphale!"

Crowley whipped around and stared at the machine. "Never heard that name before," he muttered warily.

"That's because I made it up! See? Not only did I choose a name, I created one for myself, and it's genderless so I can choose a gender later. As far as my research goes, no one shares that name with me. How's that for uniqueness and choices? Eh-eh?" It crossed its arms and tilted its head expectantly.

Crowley shook off his surprise and shrugged. "Someone could have remotely planted it in your head."

That harsh error noise erupted from the droid as it threw up its hands with apparent frustration. "You're impossible!"

"So I've been told," Crowley smirked, " _ Aziraphale _ ."

Hearing its chosen name was a completely different experience. Aziraphale wanted to shake out of its metal body. It wanted to run in circles, and shout.  _ Happy. Excited. Delighted. Thrilled. Charged. Aroused… aroused? Unlikely. Stimulated!  _ The use of its name had stimulated it in a way that its previous names had never accomplished. 

"Aziraphale," it repeated, immensely proud of itself. “May I ask one more question?”

Crowley held up one finger in reply.

“Why does everyone insist on referring to my head as a cock or dick?”

“Ah…”

  
  


Meanwhile, peering into the monitors with growing anxiety, Gabriel had practically glued his face to his tablet. He'd heard and seen the whole exchange between Crowley and… Aziraphale. Gabriel had searched for the name online, into the most in-depth archives, even the restricted ones, and found no matches. Gabriel leaned back into his chair and shut his eyes hard. The fucking robot not only chose a name but created one. 

"Shit."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like the tempter is getting ideas... 
> 
> I hope not to take too long posting the next chapter but 6 is a doozie because it's mostly Aziraphale and Crowley and passage of time and... well, new insights for our dear droid.
> 
> You can yell at me here, on Insta or Tumblr @mordellestories


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentions of heart attack, panic attack. Detailed description of panic attack symptoms. Prejudice and bigotry throughout. General dystopian horrors.
> 
> My Beta Angels (check out their fics!): Azeran, Intergalacticsupertwink, danypooh

It was stifling.  _ What was it? Day three? Four? Two hundred? _ The room felt even smaller than yesterday. The lights seemed brighter and–

"Who the fuck turned up the heat?!" Crowley shouted at the ceiling. 

Thirsty. He was so thirsty. Crowley jumped up from the bed that had grown damp from his sweat. He nearly lunged for the water fountain and began sucking it dry. He drank so much water that some came right back up, burning right through his nose. He screamed and pinched his nostrils in quick succession as he blew into the sink.

"Fuck that hurt." Crowley looked around to see Aziraphale had shown up yet. The bastard had hightailed it when Crowley explained that his head looked like a cock. "You said you'd read to me, you fucking bastard!" He yelled at the lights above. He waited all night for the stupid machine to return. With mounting horror, Crowley wondered if he'd grown dependent on a droid.

He looked down at his hands and found the trembling.

"I'm cracking up," Crowley whined. "I need air! Get me out!" In a fit of panic, Crowley ran his shoulder into the partition, imagining himself an action hero, shattering the glass and such. He merely bounced back and onto his ass. "FUCK!" His head was swimming, and he could feel a prickly sensation begin to creep down his spine and into his fingers. He was hit with a stabbing pain in the chest that sent him to his knees.

"HELP!" He screamed. "I think…" he panted as black spots appeared in his vision. "I think I'm …having… a heart...attack…"

* * *

Aziraphale had locked himself up and refused to come out. Gabriel paced in front of the door and took in a calming breath as gently knocked again.

"Zero," he started.

"It's Aziraphale!"

Gabriel had never had children–had no interest in kids. Now he realized why.  _ Is this what a tantrum is? _ He wondered, his patience growing thin. "Aziraphale," he tried again. "You need to come out of there. You're being ridiculous."

"Tell me right now that my head doesn't look like a penis with testicles, Gabriel. Say that with an ounce of truth, and I will exit the closet forthwith. Absolutely humiliating. I need another body!"

Gabriel palmed his face. "Fucking Demon," he grumbled.

Aziraphale was mortified. After Crowley had explained why everyone referred to it as dickhead, cock, Willy, and other creative variants, Aziraphale had rushed to the closest droid and immediately saw what it had failed to see the first time around.

"Who on this green Earth designed these?!" Aziraphale lamented loudly.

"I don't fucking know, Zero!" Gabriel shouted with exasperation.

"It's Azira–"

"AZIRAPHALE!" Gabriel finished, red as a tomato, and feeling a fury he hadn't experienced in ages. "You know what?" He threw up his hands. "Stay in there. Fuck it." Just as he stormed toward his desk, a call came through.

A hologram of Dr. Uriel emerged, and she looked pretty pissed. "Is there a good reason why your droid is not on its patrol?"

"Eh…" Gabriel shot a glare at the closet. "A glitch, I mean, erm, maintenance issue, technical difficulties." Gabriel stammered.

"Well, the Serpent is in hysterics and thinks he's having a heart attack. If you don't handle it soon–"

The door to the closet nearly burst off its hinges, the handle lodging itself into the wall from the force. Aziraphale sprinted for the exit, leaving Gabriel blinking stupidly after it.

"Erm, on our way!" Gabriel dashed after his creation, but Aziraphale had already disappeared into the ward. By the time he reached Crowley's cell, Aziraphale sounded off Crowley's vitals while also trying to calm the man down.

"Crowley," Aziraphale placed both its hands on the partition. It stared at the man who was in the fetal position, arms wrapped around his chest on the ground. He was soaked, his temperature was spiking, his breathing was erratic. "I think it's a panic attack, just take deep breaths, Crowley," it tried to console to no avail. "Crowley… please…"

It was clear that Crowley was not coherent. His eyes were open but blank, and he was wheezing into the floor.

Aziraphale turned toward Gabriel. "I must see to him. Please, open the door."

Gabriel nodded in understanding and swiped at the computer. 

**ACCESS DENIED**

"Shit," Gabriel breathed and swiped again.

**ACCESS DENIED**

An alarm began to blare. Crowley jolted on the floor, and his wheezing sounded like he had broken glass in his lungs. His eyes rolled up under his lids, and he stopped moving.

Gabriel was about to call for help when Aziraphale placed an arm in front of him protectively and moved them both back.

"Stand back, Gabriel," Aziraphale commanded. "Initiating emergency override." There was a beep and whirr sound before one of Aziraphale's arms opened, revealing its built-in weapon.

Gabriel gawked. He hadn't given Aziraphale permissions to use its artillery, and yet–

Aziraphale located the partition's weakest point and shot once. The glass cracked, spiderweb patterns spreading over the entire pane. Then Aziraphale moved forward and punched twice before the glass finally shattered to bits and fell around it. 

"Crowley!" Aziraphale approached the unmoving man. "SVT. One hundred eighty-three beats per minute. Crowley, can you hear me?" Aziraphale crouched down and cradled Crowley in its arms before turning around. "Gabriel, he’s not well. He needs medical attention.”

Gabriel was too stunned to move. "You… you fired your weapon."

Aziraphale walked forward only for Gabriel to backpedal in fear. Aziraphale froze. "Gabriel?"

Gabriel snapped himself out of it.  _ The asset could be dying. _ He swallowed hard and typed in some commands on his tablet, sending Aziraphale an official directive to protect the asset at all costs and notifying the infirmary of their emergency.

"Thank you," Aziraphale said as it sprinted down the halls. "Don't worry, Crowley," it reassured the fragile human blinking up at it. "You'll feel tickety-boo in no time."

Crowley's eyes widened, fear gripping him.  _ A droid.  _ "Let me go," he rasped.

"What?"

Crowley's panic renewed. "Don't touch me, you murdering fuck!" He screeched on a wheeze.

Aziraphale did not obey and did not slow down. The infirmary doors were already open, and a nurse was waiting with a sedative in hand. 

"It's me, Crowley. It's Aziraphale." But Crowley couldn't hear it over his own terrified screams.

"HELP ME! SOMEONE HELP! MUM!!! DON'T LET THEM TAKE ME, PLEASE!!!"

A quick stab to the neck with the syringe had Crowley almost immediately pliant. Aziraphale carried him to one of the available beds and placed him on it as gently as possible. It stayed until it was satisfied with Crowley's heartbeat. 

"I'm going to need you to move, droid," the nurse demanded. 

Aziraphale took a step back and watched. It did not acknowledge Gabriel, who had finally reached the infirmary. "Ze–I mean, Aziraphale," Gabriel called to it gently. "We've been summoned by Dr. Uriel. We need to go now."

Aziraphale did not want to leave. "Why?"

Gabriel's jaw dropped. It had asked why. It had questioned his authority.  _ Not good, not good, not good.  _ "That was an order, not a request." When Aziraphale made no move to comply, Gabriel's fear got the better of him. "AI-NGL-0, I am ordering you to follow your given directive and report to Dr. Uriel's office,  _ NOW _ !"

Aziraphale snapped its head to its creator. It had never heard Gabriel shout like that before. A quick scan confirmed Gabriel was still frightened. There was so much information to process, but it was sure of one thing: Aziraphale was not a person to these humans, it was a lethal machine.

"Understood, Gabriel," it droned, taking one last look at Crowley, and following its directive.

* * *

"Tickety-boo," Crowley mumbled first thing as his eyes fluttered open, wondering where the fuck that had come from. 

"What are you on about over there, cunt?" A familiar voice greeted right after Crowley groaned into full wakefulness. "You gave yourself a heart attack just to see me, eh? I'm flattered."

The owner of the voice finally registered making Crowley scramble to a seating position. He whipped his head around and found a pair of bright blue eyes under a mess of black hair sitting on a hospital bed of their own.

"Beez!" Crowley grinned as relief and joy filled him so fast he could have cried.  _ Best not in front of this one. Especially this one. _ He looked them over, trying to find any evidence that the Demon was unharmed. They stared at him, a smirk pulling at the corner of their mouth. "You're alive."

Beez rolled their eyes. "Think these twats can get rid of me so easily? Don't think so."

Crowley didn't care that his face probably beamed at that moment, showing his soft spot for the closest thing to a friend he had. A dawning realization interrupted Crowley's celebratory mood. "Well, shit," he breathed and scoffed, "the clanker was telling the truth."

"What clanker? Zero?"

Crowley started and nodded his head slowly. "You've met?"

"Wish we never had," Beez mumbled with annoyance. "They talk too much."

Crowley barked out a laugh. "Yeah, yeah, it does…" his chuckling trailed off as he realized Beez used "they" and not "it" for the droid.  _ Curious _ .

"Zero is your  _ biggest _ fan," Beez drawled with an arch of a brow, "won't shut the fuck up about you. I told them to send you a message the first time they came around, but it seems the big shit didn't deliver it."

Crowley's face fell into a deep frown. Recalling his past interactions with the droid, Crowley pursed his lips. He'd insulted and berated the thing more times than he could remember and embarrassed it with the whole cockhead thing. He grimaced. " _ Yeah _ , I might have gutted it a bit."

Beez glared at him and nodded. "Oh, I know  _ all _ about your little  _ domestics _ , trust me. Zero didn't leave out a  _ single _ detail. So, thank you for that," they deadpanned. "Comes complaining to me about you every fuckin' day, three times a day, like I'm your fuckin' mother or something. They wanted advice on, and I quote, 'how to gain your respect.'"

Crowley's eyes went wide with surprise. "Really? What did you say?"

"I told them to call you a miserable arsehole."

There was a pregnant pause before they both started laughing. 

After their chuckles and snickers subsided, Crowley cleared his throat and looked at his hands. "I'm glad you're okay," he murmured honestly.

"Aw," Beez mocked, "did wittle A.J. miss me?" Their eyes grew round, and they stuck out their lower lip in a pout. Beez laughed at Crowley's blushing face before sobering suddenly and looking away. "I thought you were dying when they brought you in."

Crowley looked around and assessed his situation. His numbers looked good, and he was hooked up to saline. "Me too," he muttered.

"You should have seen the way the big shit charged in here, carrying you like some damsel in distress," Beez grinned wickedly. "They said it was a panic attack and that you have an arrhythmia or something. You need medicine. Or surgery."

"Fuck that." Crowley looked away again and bristled. "It's none of the clanker's business." He whipped his head to give Beez a pointed glare. "Or yours." After a moment of awkwardly looking around, he changed the subject. "What's with you, anyway? You sound… chipper. You never sound chipper. And it also sounds like you have a soft spot for the big cock."

Beez grinned. "I'm pretty sure I'm on mood stabilizers and pain-killers. I highly recommend them."

Crowley scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. A few drugs and the little terrier was tamed. "Wish I'd known sooner," he muttered under his breath.

Beez cleared their throat and shrugged. "I can't seem to hate the clanking fuck. They, um," Beez swallowed audibly, "they've provided a much-needed distraction, as much as I hate to admit it. I dunno. I think we understand each other."

Crowley nearly choked on air, his eyebrows disappearing as his jaw dropped. "Holy shit."

"Shut it." Beez squirmed awkwardly in their bed. 

Raising his hands in surrender, Crowley tried wrapping his head around the knowledge that Beez enjoyed the droid's company. Then he slumped a little and palmed his face. He'd enjoyed Aziraphale's company too, regardless of how pear-shaped their conversations had gone. 

As to try and not upset his friend, Crowley decided to adopt their pronouns for Zero. "Aziraphale!" He uttered suddenly.

"What?"

Crowley blushed, already regretting what he was going to say. " _ They– _ can't fucking believe this–changed  _ their _ name. It's  _ Aziraphale _ now." Crowley was rewarded with a grateful smile before Beez leaned back and closed their eyes.

They sighed contentedly after pushing a small button hooked to their IV. "Good for them," they whispered.

Crowley couldn't relax. It's not like he had a magic button to ride a high on, and he didn't want to anyway. What he wanted was answers, and to get the fuck out of prison. "Did it– _ they _ come by yet?"

Keeping their eyes blissfully closed, Beez shook their head. "Nah. I think they're grounded for playing the hero and saving your sorry arse from your little fit."

Crowley's face heated up in shame. "My little fit," he grumbled. Why was he so weak? Why was he always a disappointment? Unbidden, a flash of memory came to him of a blaring alarm and shattering glass. Aziraphale had charged into his cell and helped him. It took a moment to remember that G.O.D probably needed him alive for torture and questioning. "You think Aziraphale is pulling a Wizard of Oz on us?" He asked the blitzed out Beez.

They shrugged and hummed. "Who cares?"

"Fucking hell."

The door to the infirmary opened, and a tall man, who looked like he had a massive pole up his arse, in a lab coat with a fake smile walked in. "Anthony Crowley," he greeted politely but with a hint of annoyance. "I'm Dr. Gabriel Archangel, head of the Angel Project…" he closed his eyes as if to summon patience and opened them again with an even wider, forced smile. "I'm  _ Aziraphale's _ creator, you could say."

Crowley cocked a brow. "Oh yeah?" he drawled with a smirk. "How's the clanker doing?"

"Ah, well, you see," Gabriel stepped closer, clasping his hands behind his back and sneering at his shoes. "That's what I came to see you about." Gabriel took a long inhale through his nose and bore holes into Crowley's head. "It's…  _ brooding _ ."

Crowley's eyes fluttered at the chosen adjective. "Excuse me–what?  _ Brooding? _ "

Gabriel nodded and stepped forward again. "Yeah, I'd appreciate it if you'd pull your punches a bit, okay? It's…" Gabriel bared his teeth like it was taking everything in him to be polite. "It's  _ sensitive _ ."

Crowley couldn't believe his ears. His hands shot to his chest and he gasped dramatically. "Oh, I apologize for hurting its  _ feelings _ !" Crowley groused, sarcasm spilling into his every word. "Are you fucking kidding me? It's a robot, right? Unless it's not, and you're just fucking with our heads."

For the first time, Gabriel's expression showed genuine feeling. Pride. He grinned and brought his watch up to his face. "Note: A.J. Crowley suspects that Angel Zero may be remotely controlled by a human. Personality development ahead of schedule." The watch beeped, and Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest. "Mr. Crowley, I'm not here to play nice, okay? You either help me convince Ze- _ Aziraphale _ to come out of my closet, or I'll just revoke all privileges that Aziraphale tried so hard to get approved for you."

"Why is Aziraphale in your closet?" Crowley lifted his chin and squinted suspiciously. "What kind of privileges?"

Gabriel swallowed an impatient groan. "It's… been too  _ embarrassed _ to come out since your last conversation. It only came out in the first place to save your ass from your hissy-fit–"

Beez snorted, eyes still closed.

Gabriel glared in their direction briefly. "Now, it's hiding again, and I can't get to my favorite shirts."

"Well, if I had a head shaped like a cock, I'd be hiding too," Beez defended, finally opening their dilated eyes. They giggled. "Maybe you should give  _ them _ what  _ they _ want, you know, the body you promised them?"

Crowley looked from Beez to Gabriel like they were in some old Western film and about sling their guns. It was obvious they had interacted before.

Dr. Arch-arsehole shot first. " _ It, _ " he emphasized, "is  _ my _ program, and I'll put it in whatever body I want, got it,  _ missy _ ?"

Crowley gasped and looked to Beez, waiting for an epic lecture on pronouns, and above par obscenities. 

Beez's eyes glinted with hate, but they smiled. "Poor Gabe," they pouted, "outmatched by a code of his own design. What will your betters say when they realize that Demons have more sway over your perfect AI than their own creator?"

Crowley noticed Gabriel's eye dart around the room as he paled. His chuckle was fake as hell, and his voice raised in volume like someone might be listening in. "AI-NGL-0 is programmed to obey all directives assigned by G.O.D. Don't you worry your pretty little head over it. This is merely an experiment on how it deals with social situations." He coughed through the last bit.

"Social situations. Sure," Beez gave him the "okay" sign and relaxed back into their pillows, satisfied with their jab.

The information and implications of what Crowley was hearing left him with more questions and a smidge of hope. A loose plan began to form. "Let me talk to Aziraphale," Crowley said before he could think better of it.

Gabriel studied Crowley for a long moment before approaching his bed and lifting his watch. "Aziraphale, I have someone who wants to talk to you."

"If this is a social call, I'd like to sulk in peace," Aziraphale droned in reply.

Crowley chuckled. "Being a drama queen, are we?"

"Crowley!" Aziraphale's voice came through so loud that Gabriel and Crowley both jumped. "Are you well?!"

The Demon squad leader decided to lay it on thick. " _ No _ , not really," he lamented with a downtrodden sigh.

"Oh, dear! What's happened?!"

"Well," Crowley bemoaned with exaggeration, "someone promised to read to me, but I guess those were just empty words."

"Not at all! Oh, my. You're absolutely right. On my way! Won't be a tick!"

The call ended, and Crowley gave Gabriel a smug grin that made a vein pop up on Gabriel's forehead. "Interesting," Crowley purred. "Don't worry. We'll get along just fine now." He winked. There was a promise in Crowley's eyes that made Gabriel's hatred nosedive into concern.

Gabriel opened his mouth, brow furrowed deep with worry, but then looked at his watch and snapped his mouth shut. "Right." He cleared his throat and adjusted his lab coat. "Glad that's settled." He turned on his heel and left.

Gabriel had passed Aziraphale in the halls without acknowledging it even when it called out to him. He ignored his creation completely because if he didn’t, he'd send Aziraphale back to headquarters in pieces. Gabriel power-walked right into his office and shut the door, even locking it, knowing it would do nothing to keep anyone of importance out.

He circled his room, turning different colors until he was calm enough to make a call.

"Michael," Gabriel barked into his watch.

Michael's image appeared, a withering look on her face. "Hello to you too."

"I'm sending over some footage," he ignored her greeting and attitude. He gave her a pointed look that she recognized immediately.

"Something wrong?"

"No." Gabriel nodded. "Zero is exceeding expectations..." he widened his eyes and pursed his lips.

Michael swallowed, the only sign that she understood his meaning. "I see. How… wonderful."

"Yeah, fucking lovely. Take a look, and then I need you here as soon as possible to course correct."

"Footage received. I'll change my schedule and see you first thing tomorrow."

Gabriel hung up and brought a tight fist to his forehead, shutting his eyes hard.

"Fuck."

* * *

Gabriel didn’t get a chance to meet with Michael alone the following day. As soon as word got to Dr. Uriel about Michael’s presence, Dr. Uriell summoned both engineers to her office. The least the head of the facility could have done was be there when they arrived, but Gabriel and Michael had to sit in their respective chairs in front of her desk while Sandalphon sneered at them with shiny, gold teeth.

Michael did not seem phased. She was sitting straight in her chair, hands relaxed on her lap, and at complete attention even though they’d been left there for thirty-two minutes. Gabriel was not as calm but he knew he couldn’t let Sandalphon notice his anxiety. Every time Gabriel’s legs would start bouncing, Gabriel would cross them, hoping it looked casual. He had no idea what to do with his hands and he had begun to sweat, so he pulled out his tablet and pretended to look over some reports.

The office itself did nothing to quell Gabriel fears either. Like most places, the room was clean, and the walls barren, save for the company’s logo on the back wall above Uriel’s desk, large and looming. It was a clear reminder that G.O.D sees all. Everything was gray and white, including the uncomfortable but sleek chairs that Gabriel’s glutes and lower back had been complaining about from the moment he sat in them. 

Gabriel gave Michael a sidelong glance and found her as prim and poised as ever. After watching the footage, he had no idea how Michael could appear so fucking composed. His eyes drifted to her bare legs. Michael had always worn long pencil skirts, and the lab coat did a good job of keeping any skin visible. Even the shoe covers hid the pretty ankles that Gabriel now saw on full display. Today, Michael was dressed as casual as Gabriel had ever seen her. Even her hair wasn’t in the tight bun she usually sported. Her blonde, greying hair fell nicely over her shoulders. Michael’s button-up shirt was open enough to see a bit of cleavage, and the light freckles that adorned her clavicles. Her sleeves stopped at her elbows, and oh, look, freckles on her forearms too. Her skin looked so smooth. Did the woman have any hair on her other than her head?

Instinctively, Gabriel’s eyes darted to her crotch. That’s when he realized he really needed a lay. He shook off the thought and peered at the only other person in the room to find him licking his lips and staring at Michael with hunger in his eyes.  _ The disgusting prick, _ Gabriel thought hypocritically. 

“Hey, Sandy,” Gabriel barked at Sandalphon who jolted with surprise, “my eyes are up here,” he finished with a leer and his middle finger pointing to his own right eye.

Gabriel noticed a small twitch to Michael’s mouth, the only sign that she was paying full attention. She’d probably noticed Gabriel ogling her too.  _ Shit. _

Sandalphon made a strange grunting sound at the same time the doors slid open and Dr. Uriel marched to her chair.

“Thank you for coming in on such short notice, Dr. Brigad. I know I haven’t given you a chance to rest from the drive.”

Michael gave Uriel a polite smile. “Not a problem. And Michael is fine, if you like.”

Dr. Uriel nodded and continued. “When I heard you were arriving today, I thought it was a perfect opportunity to discuss our reservations about the Angel Project.”

That was news to Gabriel, who sat straighter and leaned a bit forward. “I wasn’t aware there were any reservations.”

Dr. Uriel gave Gabriel a blank expression and tilted her head. “I just made you aware.” She turned back to Michael and waved Sandalphon forward at the same time. 

“Michael, I’m sure you know what happened here the other day. Your AI took it upon itself to destroy property and decided to breach protocols,” Sandalphon drawled with a smug grin as he replayed the footage on a hologram.

Gabriel wondered when someone had shoved a brick down his throat. He was about to stammer out a defense when Michael beat him to it, efficient and unperturbed as ever.

“Zero is not capable of making choices outside of its directive, Dr. Uriel. It wasn’t designed for complete autonomy and frankly,” Michael had the nerve to chuckle, “no AI ever will be. It’s just not possible. They aren’t human. Zero may have chosen an option that was not ideal for  _ you _ , but was for its  _ mission _ .”

Gabriel had to fight to close his slacked jaw and hide his general expression of surprise.

Dr. Uriel arched a brow, leaning forward and clasping her hands on her desk. “I was under the impression that its mission was to socialize with the patients.”

Michael frowned and gave each person in the room a brief, bemused look. “Zero  _ is _ here to be socialized, but another part of its directive is to guard the patients of that ward. To be honest, after reading the report, I thought it was a very vague directive, but I assumed you and your staff knew what you were doing. So, Zero did its job. You just don’t like how it handled it.”

Gabriel couldn’t hide his bewilderment. Usually, Gabriel would have a lot to say on just about anything, but he found himself enjoying the tennis match playing out before him.  _ Cat fight _ .

Dr. Uriel scoffed and looked away before shaking her head. “Of course I'm unhappy with the way it handled things. It didn't follow protocol! And you told me that its weapons were disengaged. Does Zero have the authority to override permissions? Because that would be  _ extremely _ concerning.”

Gabriel felt all the blood drain from his face. He thought that fact had been overlooked. Apparently not.

Michael leaned forward, placing a daring elbow on the desk. “Zero was not designed to follow protocol. Zero was designed to complete missions and come up with its  _ own _ protocol to accomplish them.” After she stressed her last point, Michael leaned back confidently and crossed her legs. “Obviously, Zero made calculations and chose the best path towards the best possible outcome.”

“And the weapons?” Uriel challenged.

Michael pursed her lips and glared at Gabriel. “Dr. Archangel and I were of different opinions on the matter. I was the one who lifted the block on the use of artillery. We’ve worked too hard for our only prototype to be defenseless against those who would wish to do it harm or steal it. As an  _ equal _ partner,  _ I _ do have the authority to make such decisions. Isn’t that right, Dr. Archangel?”

A flat out lie without an ounce of hesitation, Gabriel marveled.

Gabriel jerked in his chair when all eyes snapped to him. The attention on him was so sudden that he gave a strange nod and gesture toward his partner. “Mhm. Yup. She does. Unfortunately for me. Ha. And-and-and I’m  _ so _ grateful that she did, because if we had lost the Serpent, then where would we be, eh?” Gabriel laughed a bit too hard so he cleared his throat and reigned it in.

Dr. Uriel’s shoulders slumped with what seemed like relief. She sat back and pondered on everything that had been said. Then she scratched her forehead and shrugged. “I have to say that your droid’s methods give me pause, but it’s impressive nonetheless.” She turned to Gabriel who tried hard not to squirm in his seat. “And you’re certain that Zero can’t make decisions outside of its directives?”

“Oh, yeah–I mean, no–I mean  _ yes _ I’m sure.”

Dr. Uriel stared at him for a long moment before she sighed. “I guess we’ll need to be more specific with what is and what is not allowed here. I’ll still be billing your department for damages.”

“As you should,” Michael replied with a flirtatious smile. “This facility is your territory, Dr. Uriel, and we would never impose on your authority. But…” she waited for Uriel to give a sign she was paying close attention. “Zero is our department and we have a very specific mission to accomplish. So, we really appreciate your patience and support.”

Dr. Uriel gave Michael a genuine smile. “Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow? I’d love to know more about your contributions to such an incredible feat as Zero.”

Gabriel looked from Uriel to Michael.  _ Did Michael just blush? How come Uriel never asks  _ me _ to lunch?! _ He didn’t know he was scowling at his colleague until she gave him a pointed grin and answered.

“I’d love to."

* * *

After leaving Uriel’s office, Michael kept her composed appearance but, oh, was she ready to ream the moron chasing after her. At least he had been smart enough to keep silent in there. She did not slow her gait when Gabriel sprinted ahead and chivalrously opened the office door for her. Something he’d never done before. Michael stormed inside to find Aziraphale at its charging station.

The droid lit up and waved at her. “Michael! What a surprise!” She walked right up to Aziraphale, while at the same time typing out commands on her tablet. “I’m so ha----ppyyy…” said the droid as its functions were forced to shut down.

Gabriel had already shut the door and was gaping at her. “Wha--”

Michael lifted up a hand and gave Gabriel a look that made him pale. She lifted a small device and pressed a button. The entire room lost power. Gabriel was whipping his head in all directions and finally stared at her with his jaw dropped.

“How did you--”

“Shut it. We don’t have much time. I’m going to assume that you don't want all our hard work thrown in the shitter, and that you aren’t going to tell a soul about this,” she lifted the small device and then pocketed it. “You need to tell me everything, Gabriel. I need to know what you’ve been hiding.”

Gabriel nodded quickly and dragged a hand through his immaculate hair. “Um, you know most of it, the rest, you’ve probably guessed already if your little placating words to Uriel have anything to say about it. Aziraphale–”

“Who?”

“Zero, Aziraphale, whatever– _ that, _ ” he pointed to the droid, “we need to prove that it can adapt seamlessly, independently, secretly, while still able to accomplish its mission.”

“Which is?”

“Turn the rebels against each other and terminate the Morningstar.”

“We don’t even know who the Morningstar is,” Michael interjected. 

Gabriel laughed mirthlessly, “Yeah. It’s supposed to figure that out too.” Gabriel tugged at his hair again, his tresses pointing every which way now. Michael would have found it funny if the situation weren’t so serious. “This isn’t going to work, Mike.” Gabriel shook his head and walked up to his creation, staring up at it sadly. “Aziraphale is too independent. It created a name for itself because a Demon told it too! It was able to override my block on its weapons. It questioned my authority! Mine!” He turned wide, frightened eyes to Michael who had grown pale. “It’s becoming attached to the inmates, you should have seen the way it…” Gabriel deflated, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s too soft. If we ordered it to terminate the Serpent or anyone else here, I’m not sure it would.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Michael said, more to reassure herself. “No one is going to order Zero to kill anyone right now.”

“What do we do?” Gabriel stared at Michael, hands lifted imploringly. “We’re dead if anyone finds out and Aziraphale will be destroyed. Maybe… maybe… we can switch Aziraphale out for a new AI!”

Michael shrugged. “Sure, let’s just whip up another program under G.O.D’s nose! Look,” she sighed and gripped Gabriel’s wrists. “We need to take things as they come. No one here knows the mission. Even if there is proof that, erm,  _ Aziraphale _ is growing attached to the inmates and doesn’t follow orders, we can use that to our advantage.”

“How?”

Michael smirked. “Hear me out…”

* * *

Aziraphale’s vision came back followed by the rest of its functions. “Goodness!” It exclaimed as it took in its creators before it. “It was so dark, what happened?!” 

Michael grinned and placed a standing mirror before it. “Wanted to surprise you,” she explained.

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. Or the image in the mirror did. Its reflection mimicked its every move. Aziraphale jumped up to stand, looking at its new frame with awe. “Is this…” it patted its hard chest and flexed its fingers. Overall it had more dexterity and fluid movements.

“It’s your skeleton,” Michael supplied. “Do you like it?”

“It’s terrifying,” Gabriel muttered under his breath at Michael. And who could blame anyone for saying so? Aziraphale was more humanoid but… “it could get a part in Terminator seventeen.” He shuddered while getting another look at those perfectly round eyeballs and exposed teeth.

“I love it!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Oh, and my voice is much more versatile too!”

Michael chuckled. “You can change it to whatever you want. There’s plenty to choose from, or you can even create your own with some adjustments.”

Aziraphale tested this by choosing a random female voice. “Hello-hello-hello! Oh, would you look at that!” It jumped, startling Gabriel. 

“Ugh,” Gabriel made a show of gagging, “choose another, that nasal vocal fry is like nails on a chalkboard.”

Michael slapped Gabriel’s shoulder, hard. “Bet you wouldn’t complain about vocal fry if it were a man’s voice.”

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Gabriel opened his mouth and made as if to stick a finger down his throat, reiterating his point.

While they bickered about Gabriel being a sexist pig, Aziraphale tinkered with the voice settings and spoke again. “Hello, I’m Gabriel.” It mimicked Gabriel so well that the two engineers gaped at it. Now that Aziraphale had an audience, it decided to play some more. It placed both hands on its hips and then wagged a finger at Gabriel. “Aziraphale, get me a sandwich. And don’t forget to cut the crust off this time. Cut it diagonally too. I don’t know, tastes better that way.”

By the time Aziraphale was done, Gabriel had turned beet red and spluttered. “I-I-  _ psh _ , how-what-I do  _ not _ –”

He was interrupted by Michael’s manic cackle. 

Aziraphale joined in, still using Gabriel’s voice.

Gabriel pursed his lips and pointed at Aziraphale. “Laugh it up, T-800! I’ll delete all your books!”

Aziraphale stilled and straightened. “Oh, dear. My apologies,” it said in the generic computerized tone it despised. A thought came unbidden and Aziraphale clapped its hands with delight. “I can read to Crowley and change my voice for each character! He’ll be so happy, I know it. He’s complained that I sound like a robot reading to him.” Aziraphale noticed Gabriel and Michael exchange a knowing look. “What is it?”

The engineers looked at Aziraphale with tight smiles.

“Nothing to worry over,” Michael reassured.

“Yeah,” Gabriel added, “just some back end stuff.” He waved a hand dismissively and then turned his gaze away.

Aziraphale stood rooted in place with shock though the humans could not notice it.

They had lied.

They had lied to them.

They had never lied to them before.

_ For further examination _ , Aziraphale placed the moment away in their mind and didn’t bring it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 is done, it's long, but needs a bit of tweaking. I've also started chapter 7!
> 
> The image above is a composite of my art (Crowley) and a stock image I manipulated slightly. Source of the droid image: https://pixabay.com/photos/figure-collectible-isolated-film-2789098/


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentions of dystopian atrocities and character death.
> 
> My Beta Angels (check out their fics!): Azeran, Intergalacticsupertwink, danypooh 
> 
> Aaaaaand ENTER ANGST!

Crowley was allowed to stay in the infirmary until Beez’s discharge, which would not be for another few days. Crowley wondered if this was one of Aziraphale’s “privileges” that Archangel said they were trying to grant him. 

He didn’t care. Now that he knew he could manipulate the droid, Crowley’s plan brewed and bubbled in his mind. Aziraphale was just so eager to please all the time! It would be easy enough to ask for a favor. The only problem was that Gabriel guy would certainly be watching Aziraphale’s every move and listening to their every conversation. 

While he pondered on how to use Aziraphale to his advantage, a skeleton with eyes and teeth slid into the infirmary with wide, open arms and a loud, “SURPRISE!”

Beez nearly fell out of their bed, pointing and screaming at the walking nightmare hopping around the room, screaming in kind. Crowley didn’t realize his own shrieks were thrown in the mix until the robotic Crypt Keeper cowered near Crowley’s bed, frantically whipping its head around looking for whatever threat had frightened the patients.

“SATAN’S BOLLOCKS!” Crowley squawked, hand shooting to his chest where his heart threatened to burst through.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!” Beez screeched.

“WHAT?! WHAT IS IT?!” The droid wailed, it’s voice actually sounding fearful.

It took a good three minutes and a nurse to get everyone to calm down. Once Beez understood what happened, they burst into wheezing laughter while wincing in pain at the same time. Crowley chuckled nervously as he appraised Aziraphale’s new form. Oh, the thing was downright scary looking. Crowley’s past dealing with droids, in general, had never been great, this new look did nothing to help his predisposition of fearing the things. Poor Aziraphale stayed in a corner, far from everyone, too self-conscious to move. 

“Oh, come now, Aziraphale,” Beez waved them over, “just because you walked right out of my worst nightmares, doesn’t mean you look… _bad_ …” They laughed again. “Shit, I think I opened my stitches.”

Crowley caught the droid looking in his direction like it was waiting for his permission to say or do anything. Its eyeballs shifted from his eye line to the floor several times before a little pang of guilt took root in Crowley’s gut. He knew that look even without a proper facial expression to convey it.

“It’s alright, Aziraphale,” Crowley let out on a breathy laugh. He beckoned the droid to him by curling his fingers until the thing had enough courage to step forward. “You can’t just change your look and expect us to recognize you, you know,” Crowley admonished without any bite.

Aziraphale ducked their head and shuffled forward some more until Crowley was only an arms-length away. They eyed his hand, open in invitation, before scanning his demeanor. Crowley was tense, but his smile was kind. No one had ever asked to hold their hand before, not even silently. Aziraphale’s digits twitched before they cautiously placed their hand in the Demon’s.

Touch sensors were now installed, but without any nerves, Aziraphale didn’t really _feel_ anything. Not like a human, anyway. Still, just gazing curiously at their joined hands made Aziraphale forget their newfound knowledge that they were horrifying to look at.

Crowley tried his best not to cringe. He watched Aziraphale who was quietly and gently studying Crowley’s fingers. He even allowed the thing to examine his palm and trace the lines found there. “Can you feel that?” 

Aziraphale shook their head slowly.

Crowley didn’t know when it happened exactly, but he guessed this moment was the catalyst for his waning hatred of droids. 

Aziraphale grazed a sensitive spot. Crowley jolted and snatched his hand away. The droid made to step back but Crowley laughed it off. “A bit ticklish there,” Crowley explained with an apologetic smile.

“Ticklish,” Aziraphale repeated, their jaw moving with the word. A moment passed in complete silence. “I do apologize. I was unaware that my skeleton would be so… startling.”

Beez scoffed. “Freaked me the fuck out.”

Crowley glared at his friend but couldn’t hide his amused smirk. “Skeleton, ey? Well, where’s the rest of you?”

Aziraphale perked up a bit, glad they were no longer scaring their new friends. “Not ready, I’m afraid, but soon. But I do have a new voice box and plenty of voices to choose from! I can even create my own!”

“Oo-oo-oo!” Beez bounced in their bed. “Oh, please-please-please do C-3PO! Please do C-3PO!”

“ _No_ ,” said Crowley, pointing a warning finger at Beez.

Aziraphale looked from human to human, confused. “I don’t quite understand the directive.”

“Nevermind,” Crowley growled.

“Don’t listen to him,” Beez waved their hands, “listen to _me_! Look up the film Star Wars–”

“Don’t do that.”

“And then imitate the droid called–”

“ _Nooooo…_ ”

“C-3PO.”

“Aziraphale, I’m actually begging you,” Crowley groaned, looking to the ceiling. 

The droid studied both humans again and found that Crowley was not seriously against the directive, while Beez’s eyes glinted with hopeful joy. It didn’t even take a full minute to comply.

“R2-D2, where are you?! This is madness! We’re doomed!” Aziraphale exclaimed in the fictional droid’s voice. Beez was immediately wheezing.

Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose but chuckled anyway. 

Beez could hardly speak. “Brilliant! It was brilliant! Please keep it. Keep it!”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, noticing his amusement, and tilted their head. “Do you think I should?”

Crowley blinked twice before the corner of his mouth turned down. Was it really so easy to control the droid? Was it just trying to get close with an ulterior motive? The thing seemed to be a genuine softy but who could know for certain. Crowley squirmed with discomfort. He’d never had any real sway over anyone but his small faction of Demons and even they only followed his orders because they came from higher up. He had no doubt his group was loyal to him but they were more loyal to the cause than anything else. Aziraphale appeared to admire Crowley and it was throwing him in for a loop.

Crowley cleared his throat, realizing he’d taken too long to reply. “Uh, yeah, it actually suits you, but,” he narrowed his eyes at the droid, “I thought you wanted to be unique? How about you create your own?”

Aziraphale nodded eagerly. “Wonderful idea! I’ll experiment.”

Crowley and Aziraphale stared at each other for a long moment. Unnerved a bit from the unblinking orbs on the droid, Crowley flushed and shuddered. “What?!”

“Oh,” Aziraphale started and pointed to their exposed teeth, “if I had a proper face, you’d see I’m smiling.”

“Ah.”

* * *

A routine established itself with Aziraphale’s consistent visits. Morning, afternoon, and night patrols were at the same time, every day. Aziraphale often had to be called away by their creators for indulging in lengthening their visits. Every time, Aziraphale pushed the boundaries, and every time, they’d be yelled at to continue their directive.

Crowley found it incredibly amusing. If there was an elaborate plan to hoodwink him into divulging rebel secrets, then they were doing an incredible job. Crowley enjoyed conversing with Aziraphale. The droid was curious, polite, and very intelligent. Soon enough, he found himself breaking his own rule of answering one question per day. Then it was a question per visit. And since the questions were never about gaining enemy information, Crowley gave Aziraphale carte blanche to ask as many questions as they liked.

“Go fish,” Beez announced with an evil smile. They rolled their eyes when Aziraphale happily plucked a card from the stack and made another pair. “Bless it,” they muttered. “Can we please play poker?”

“Gambling isn’t allowed, B,” Crowley uttered while glaring at his hand. “It wouldn’t be any fun.”

“Like this is?” Beez asked, incredulous. “Do you have any fours?”

Crowley plucked a four from his hand angrily and haphazardly threw it at the smug rebel beside him.

“I’m having fun,” Aziraphale chirped in a refined female voice.

“We know.” The Demons responded in unison with an annoyed sigh.

“Can someone give me a break here?” Crowley groaned, close to tossing his hand across the room.

“You can ask me if I have any twos,” Aziraphale shrugged.

“Oh, that’s not fair!” Beez slammed their hand on the table.

Crowley grinned at them. “Have any twos, Aziraphale?”

“Go fish,” Aziraphale replied.

Beez barked out a laugh while Crowley’s jaw dropped in a loud gasp. “You’re such a bastard,” he grumbled but laughed with disbelief. He took a card from the stack. “Bless it.”

“What’s gambling, and do you have any Kings?” Aziraphale asked Beez innocently.

Beez’s amusement fizzled out as they snarled and threw a King at the droid who had begun whistling happily.

And then it was as if lightning struck Crowley straight in the brain. He eyed Aziraphale warily before glancing at his hand, pretending to organize them in some kind of order. “You’d love poker, Aziraphale. More challenging than this rubbish. But, usually, the game is played with money. It’s illegal to place bets. Can’t you access your database or whatever?”

Aziraphale froze for a moment before giving a small confused tilt of their head. “I can’t find anything on gambling. Odd.” They placed their last pair on the table. “I win.”

“Bless it,” the Demons groaned again. “Give me those fucking cards,” Beez yelled. They began to shuffle slow and meticulously, muttering something about cheating droids under their breath.

“So,” Crowley tried not to seem smug, “I guess they keep you in the dark too, huh?” He examined his fingernails, the picture of nonchalance. He saw Beez still briefly and then continue their shuffling even slower than before.

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale asked, turning to face Crowley completely. “I suppose the charging station gets rather dark after hours…” they trailed off sadly.

“No, no. I mean they keep information from you like they keep it from everyone else in Eden–the whole world really.” Crowley explained, trying to keep his tone even and unaffected.

Aziraphale looked from Crowley to Beez. “What kind of information?”

Beez closed their eyes and took a long inhale through their nose. When they opened their eyes, Crowley knew they understood where he was headed. They said nothing. Crowley sighed and then made a show of looking around suspiciously.

“About how things used to be before G.O.D. and the truth about what they’ve done to people in places like this. All that information and so much more is kept in a restricted faction of Heaven.” Crowley leaned back and closed his eyes, remembering the days of his youth. “But some of us still remember,” he murmured. He didn’t need to act anymore. This was a touchy subject for him. Crowley sniffed, opened his eyes, and straightened before giving into his past. 

Aziraphale stared at him for a long time before speaking again. “I didn’t know there was a time before G.O.D. or Heaven.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Aziraphale,” Beez chimed in, looking more like their stoic self in days.” They schooled their features further and raised their gaze to the droid. “If people don’t fit into GOD’s plan, they are cast out. Millions of people lost _everything_. They tear families apart. Take children who don’t fit in and damn their existence. Some are even–” Beez choked. “Gotta use the toilet,” they growled to hide their true emotions and rushed away.

The droid looked to Crowley. “They are hurting,” Aziraphale said softly with concern etched in their voice. “Should I–”

“Leave them be,” Crowley shook his head, “our histories are not the prettiest, angel.” The endearment slipped out without permission or prior thought to it at all. Crowley pushed that aside and later chose to believe it was because Aziraphale _was_ an _AINGL droid_. He also ignored how Aziraphale perked up upon hearing the moniker, or how they scooted closer to Crowley. 

But it was a good sign that he had more sway than he originally thought. So he used it. “Listen,” Crowley leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on Aziraphale’s forearm. The droid barely suppressed their preening. “I don’t know what they tell you out there,” Crowley eyed the droid sadly. “Innocent people suffer and die every day because of G.O.D. and have been for a long time now.”

Aziraphale shook their head. “I’m certain that G.O.D.’s plan is for everyone’s betterment…”

The innocent thing had no idea who it worked for.

Crowley gave them a wistful smile. “Okay. When you see Dr. _Ass_ hat,” he pronounced with an accent that was supposed to mock Gabriel, “ask him what happens when GOD can’t find a use for you. Ask him what happens when you’re too old to bring in a profit. Ask him what they do to…” he took a deep breath, “what they do to children, born and unborn alike when you get _this_.”

Crowley lifted his left sleeve beyond his shoulder, exposing an odd, a-symmetrical scar. It almost looked like a thumbprint and the scarred tissue was not raised, but concave, like someone had just carved out a chunk of flesh with a jagged knife.

Aziraphale reached out to the mark, the need to aide and soothe taking the forefront, but then pulled back. “What is that?”

Crowley lowered his sleeve and nodded slowly. “Ask _Gaby_.”

Aziraphale took notice of every twitch and microexpression of Crowley in that moment. Crowley was angry. Crowley was also hurting. “I will.”

“And, Aziraphale?” Crowley looked to the closed WC door and then back to the droid. “It would really mean a lot to me and Beez if you could check on our other friend, Hastur. You said they put him to work. Can you visit him? Send a message?” Crowley whispered hopefully.

Aziraphale froze and shook their head. “I’d have to go outside.” 

Crowley’s brow furrowed and he shrugged. “What? Not allowed outside the building?”

Aziraphale took a moment and realized there was no explicit rule for them to stay within the building. “I’m not sure. Perhaps I can. I’ll ask.”

“Don’t ask. Just do it,” he patted Aziraphale’s hand and finally pulled away with a wicked grin. “You know what they say, _angel_. Better to ask forgiveness than ask permission.” Crowley winked.

“Oh, dear.”

They both heard Beez as they hobbled their way back toward their seat. “Can you check on his husband too?” Beez asked quietly. “His name is Ligur Chamalain.”

The droid reeled back as they processed the request. “Hastur has… a _husband_ ? Do you mean _wife_?”

Anger sparked in Beez’s eyes before they looked away and took a calming breath. “Husband.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale glued their eyes to the table, their eyes shifting nervously. “I was unaware that same-sex human couples existed,” they finally replied shyly. Aziraphale looked up to find both humans staring at him with pity. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn and now Aziraphale was suspicious. Were they being tricked? The rebels seemed genuine. If humans could be attracted to the same sex then…

“Is it rude to ask what your preferences are in your sexual partners?” Aziraphale asked timidly while flicking an invisible speck of fluff off their knee. 

Beez giggled while Crowley’s cheeks turned pink.

“Since I know you ask because you want to _learn_ ,” Beez explained with a sardonic grin, “I’m comfortable telling you that I have no preference. I’m pansexual and Crowley is bisexual, but prefers cock.”

Crowley’s face darkened as he shoved Beez for outing him. “You arsehole.”

Beez laughed but quickly apologized. “Sorry, sorry! It’s for _science_!”

“Sod off,” Crowley growled. He sent a quick look to the droid who was giving him a sidelong glance and sitting stiff as a statue. 

“Time to go I’m afraid,” Aziraphale suddenly announced as they stood abruptly. They backed away from the Demons, waving their hands dismissively. “I don’t want Gabriel to yell at me again. And, well, I’m going to try and check on Hastur and his… his _husband_. Research… things... Yes, rather. Jolly good! Until tonight!” They spun on their heels and fled the room.

Crowley and Beez shared a look.

“Did we just discover a homophobic droid?” Beez asked, surprised. 

Crowley shrugged. 

* * *

Gabriel had his head buried in his hands while Michael studied the most recent footage, relaying Aziraphale’s reactions and comments over and over again. They had been watching Aziraphale like hawks and every time Aziraphale learned something new from the rebels, the droid kept it to themselves.

Secrecy. Gabriel worried that Aziraphale was capable of lying without a directive to do so, and there seemed to be evidence that Aziraphale at the very least kept information to themselves. 

“What do you think?” Gabriel asked, voice rough and tired as he finally lifted his head to look at his partner.

Michael frowned, eyes glued to the hologram of Aziraphale frozen in time when they were told information was being withheld from them. “I don’t know yet, but they’re coming in now.”

They both watched the live camera as the droid arrived at their closed door, but Aziraphale just stood there for a long quiet moment before they turned and continued down the hall.

“Where the heck is it going?” Gabriel murmured with a furrowed brow.

They continued to follow Aziraphale and both were surprised to see the droid head toward an exit. Clearly it was going to test whether it was allowed outside. 

“Aw, shit,” Gabriel launched out of his chair but Michael snatched his sleeve to still him. 

“Let’s just watch,” said Michael as her eyes grew round with anticipation. 

Aziraphale reached some double doors that exited the ward. They waited one second and finally inserted a digit into the lock. The doors opened and Aziraphale did not hesitate to walk right through.

“Mike,” Gabriel warned.

“Shush!” Michael unknowingly tightened her grip on Gabriel’s wrist.

Aziraphale marched toward a service entrance rather than the main one and once again stood before the door, and nothing more. 

Gabriel sighed with relief… prematurely.

Michael jumped out of her seat, eyes wild. Aziraphale plunged a digit into the lock, the door opened, and they took two steps outside before they collapsed and moved no more.

* * *

The world came back into view. Michael was before them, searching for damages presumably. Gabriel was mid-rant. He was furious but for the first time, Aziraphale didn’t care. It had never felt this way before. It had never felt so… _numb_.

“Where the hell did you think you were going, anyway?!” Gabriel yelled. When Aziraphale stared off at a blank wall with no answer, Gabriel scowled and loomed over his creation. “Answer me, Aziraphale.”

The droid snapped its gaze to its master. “I wanted to go outside,” it said, back to using its default computerized voice.

“Why?” Gabriel demanded.

“Why not?” Aziraphale retorted.

Gabriel’s mouth opened and closed and when he found he had no words, he growled with frustration. “Tell them, Michael!”

Michael sighed. “We’ve only been given permission to use this ward–”

“You both go outside every day.” 

Pursing her lips and trying not to resort to lies, Michael sat down in front of Aziraphale. “What do you _really_ want to know?”

“What’s my real purpose,” the droid uttered, “why did you create me? You’ve lied to me. You’ve kept things from me. You want me to learn from humans, but what exactly do you want me to learn?”

The engineers were dumbstruck. Aziraphale was more self-aware than they had anticipated. It was fascinating, and the scientists were partly thrilled but mostly terrified. 

Finding its creators mute and fearful, Aziraphale finally felt something different. “I’m angry,” they realized. Not frustrated. Not disappointed. And not annoyed. Angry. “Where is Hastur and his husband, Ligur? What is this place, really? I know you study my conversations with the patients, if that’s what they are.”

“They are patients,” Michael reassured.

“Then what are they being treated for?” Aziraphale asked in challenge. “Other than a few injuries and disorders, I can’t see why they need to be here. They were quarantined and yet Hastur was taken before the fourteen days and put to work with others. If that’s true.”

“Rehabilitation is an ongoing treatment.”

“Rehabilitation into what, exactly?”

“Society,” Gabriel finally added. “This place, and others like it, are for those who haven’t been able to find their purpose and be a viable asset to society. Everyone’s treatment plan is different and it’s none of our business.”

“What is the mark on Crowley’s shoulder?”

“It’s called an Idle mark,” Michael replied. “Everyone needs to pass certain tests. These tests determine where one will be able to do their best work. When Heaven can’t find a place for someone, it’s because they failed those tests. Weak humans who can’t contribute to society. They are marked but only as a last resort.”

 _A last resort_ , Aziraphale noted. “If Crowley is so useless and beyond help, then why is he here?”

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel tried to reason, “Crowley is a bad guy. It’s not like he wasn’t given chances. He doesn’t want to belong and you can’t help those who do not want to help themselves. He’s here because leaving him out there,” Gabriel pointed to the door for emphasis, “leaves _our_ people in more danger from _his_ kind.”

Aziraphale glanced between Gabriel and Michael. “So, Crowley will stay here for the rest of his life? A prisoner after all.”

Gabriel floundered. He couldn’t say anything out loud that wouldn’t compromise the entire project. “Go to your charging station.” Gabriel had barely noticed he’d actually said anything at all.

Aziraphale lifted their chin in defiance. “Why?”

Gabriel charged for the droid and got in Aziraphale’s face. “Because I said so.” He kept eye contact and felt his eyes burn from not blinking. He expected more of a fight but Aziraphale merely stood up and gave a slight bow of their head. 

“Understood, Gabriel. May I charge with the other droids?”

A strange request, Gabriel thought. Maybe Aziraphale just needed space. “Fine.”

Aziraphale started for the door but then stopped abruptly. “I’ve chosen a gender,” it said briskly in a male voice it had created using C-3PO as inspiration. “I’d like to be male. I’ve drawn up some possible physical features including a few cocks and sent them to your inboxes. Off I go now. Pip-pip!”

Gabriel choked on his own saliva and didn’t get a chance to recover until Aziraphale had left the room entirely.

* * *

The halls were quiet save for the occasional droid walking on or off their charging station. Aziraphale stood still, feigning at being on standby, and making sure that the spaces next to him remained empty. He waited patiently until a large military droid arrived, a platoon leader type. It stomped down the halls and stood in front of the other charging droids. It located an empty spot by Aziraphale and inserted itself. After a few moments, the droid went on standby.

Aziraphale took his chance now that the droid had arrived and was keeping him mostly covered from the hall's cameras.

Slowly and as discreetly as possible, Aziraphale opened his thumb drive, injected it into the platoon leader's input, and hacked it.

**Patient 10-274-13, Hastur Giddings**

**Assignment: Labor Division**

**Sentence Duration: Life**

**Patient 10-357-24, Beatrice Biswell**

**Assignment: Postponed.**

**Sentence Duration: Postponed.**

**Notes: Patient is under the AI-NGL project. Future treatments to be considered once the program is complete; Repetitive Therapy in conjunction with Aversion Therapy. Clitoridectomy or lobotomy will be left to the discretion of the patient’s assigned Counselor.**

**Anthony J. Crowley: CLASSIFIED - Request Access from superior Y/N?**

**… N**

**Ligur Chamalain: --- 1 match**

**Loading archival search...**

**…**

**…**

**…**

**Deceased. Heart failure during interrogation procedure.**

_Oh, no…_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knooooooow! Getting dark, eh? A cliffhanger-ish ending but I'm finishing up chapter 7 asap! What do think Aziraphale will do with his newfound d knowledge?
> 
> CHAPTER ART: I tried my hand at Crowley without a reference this time! But the droid art belongs to: TheDigitalArtis on Pixabay  
> Source link: https://pixabay.com/illustrations/robot-cyborg-artificial-bionic-1583551/


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: I live in the USA and my entire family is from Cuba (a "communist" country). Greed is greed. It shows up in whatever political system a country has, whether it's a dictatorship, communist, or democratic, etc. The circumstances of this dystopia are based on what I imagine would be the worst-case scenario should capitalism go unchecked. It's just a conjecture, a possibility, nothing more. Don't come to me saying I'm pushing an "agenda." 
> 
> This imaginary scenario is not original, people. Also, it's important to learn the correct terminology. Capitalism does not equal democracy. Research on Fascist corporatism, Corporate capitalism/Crony Capitalism, Authoritarian capitalism was done mostly on Wikipedia and a bunch of articles that I didn't save because I'm a lazy ninny.
> 
> Okay, rant over!
> 
> Prepare for a little angst and some laughs (hopefully).

When G.O.D. tightened its grip on the American government, the whole world knew trouble was ahead. It started off with little things. The company bought out small businesses and startups in tech and agriculture. No one really paid attention to that. It was making life easier on the people anyhow, so why would anyone complain? No one even knew these businesses had been taken over and hidden beneath the wings of the dominating monopoly. It was a slow process that was mostly ignored, until the truth behind their actions flowed over the edges of conspiracy theories and into a cold hard reality.

Bought politicians and lobbyists can do a lot of damage over time, little by little. When greed couldn't procure other valuable assets, threats did. It almost seemed like an overnight operation to conquer the world, but it wasn't. Generation after generation saw more work, but not necessarily more wages and benefits. Groups who thought communism and socialism were the goals to reach a "New World Order" were so very wrong. It was pure, unchecked capitalism that finally ruined whatever democracy was left of the so-called number one country in the world. But G.O.D. was not done–greed is never satiated, after all. Soon, G.O.D. turned its eyes to their bordering neighbors, and then… overseas. Some countries were still free of the blissful oppression that G.O.D. offered, but only because they were inconsequential to the company. Those places were drained of resources and then eviscerated, if possible once they were bled dry.

Some citizens flowed in the direction made out for them seamlessly, others were left to wither away until they were forced out of their homes, cities, states, and countries because of the ever-lessening gap between those considered worthy and those found...inadequate. 

Qualifications kept popping up to be rid of those who were deemed a "profit loss." The elderly, the disabled, the terminally ill, the perpetually sick, the jobless, the homeless, the activists, the purposeless… and some arbitrary rules and standards marked a person as any of the previously mentioned  _ flaws _ .

It was wrong. It all had to be wrong. Curiosity won over dread as Aziraphale delved deeper, past Heaven's gates. Aziraphale had gained more knowledge than he was ready to deal with within a very short amount of time. 

There were so many Idle's in the facilities around the world! And the treatments! The treatments and procedures were, more often than not, barbaric. Aziraphale tried to convince himself that there was a good reason for it. There was less crime in the world. No one in the cities was going hungry or homeless. The economy was thriving, but… but… at the cost of sacrifices that a small group of humans, let alone a supercomputer, had any right to make.

What Aziraphale had learned, the things he'd seen… it didn't bear thinking about.

It wasn't hard to guess why Crowley and his friends were outcasts. Crowley had a learning disability and a heart condition, which meant he was not fit for the more esteemed work, which there were few of, or the menial jobs of which there were plenty but full to the brim of low-level citizens. And… well, he was bisexual, also deemed as an illness. 

Crowley had been right all along. The Serpent had been kind in trying to open Aziraphale's eyes. Did he manipulate Aziraphale? Yes, daily, as a matter of fact. Aziraphale could concede to that, but he wasn't confident he would have listened to Crowley otherwise. Aziraphale couldn't find it within himself to be angry with Crowley or the rebels. 

If the data was even close to correct, then the Demons were not much better than G.O.D. with all the raiding and killing. The more organized the rebels became, however, the more casualties there were. Apparently, not every faction was the same, but it was evident that they were unifying under one leader, The Morningstar.

There was no information on who the Morningstar was, but whoever it was had Dukes and Princes. The Serpent was neither. He was a low-level agent sent on reconnaissance missions. Crowley was a spy. Not a killer. This brought Aziraphale an immense sense of relief because Aziraphale cared for Crowley very much. He wanted to help Crowley and his friends escape this awful Hell dressed in white. They didn't have much time. Hastur would die a slave, Beez would be butchered for science, and  _ Crowley… _ Oh, when Aziraphale finally bypassed Uriel's credentials and learned of Crowley's fate, that is when Aziraphale knew he could not stand by and just let things occur according to G.O.D.'s plans.

**Directive: Open Classified folder on Anthony J. Crowley, aka, the Serpent.**

**A.J. Crowley, no history found from before the Fall. Demon Spy. The asset is under the care of the AI-NGL project. Once the trial is complete, A.J. Crowley must be transferred to the interrogation division.**

If Ligur, who had no health ailments, died of heart failure while being interrogated, Crowley would die for sure.

_ Over my synthetic body,  _ which Aziraphale was finally upgraded with. The only thing left to complete him was his outer layers, but there was no time to wait for that either. This form would probably be Aziraphale's last, and he accepted that as his new truth with a soldier's tenacity. That's what he was, wasn't he? Oh, yes, Aziraphale had learned about his true directive, and he was not pleased. He felt downright betrayed. Now that he was training for combat and learning all kinds of skills that would ultimately turn him into a dutiful assassin, well, he wasn't going to let his education go to waste.

If he was going to go out, it would be with a bang. At least losing their only prototype would delay the AI-NGL project for some years to come, because Aziraphale planned to hijack all the research and make it go down with the ship! Poof! Gabriel was going to be furious, and Aziraphale felt a tinge of guilt over it–the engineer was the closest thing Aziraphale had to a father, after all.

There were still two hours before the facilities employees would begin their day. It was cutting it real close, but Aziraphale knew there was no time to spare. Using the platoon leader's credentials, it took less than a week for Aziraphale to hack a large percentage of droids, in house. He had a plan. A plan with a sixty-two percent chance of success… as long as Aziraphale kept his own survival out of the equation.

Aziraphale remotely controlled the platoon leader droid once it was charged. The giant machine walked through the halls unbothered. It reached Dr. Uriel's office and used its credentials to enter and administer a "surprise inspection." Aziraphale went right for the tablet, and the droid bypassed the passcode to enter. After that was complete, Aziraphale retired the droid and puppeteered another.

* * *

Michael dressed in a hurry, even though Uriel seemed to be in no rush to get out of bed. They had only been able to spend the night with one another a few times, and Michael knew she had to end this soon, or they would be caught. It was inevitable, but Uriel was in denial.

"I can hear your brain worrying from here, Mike," Uriel drawled lazily. She rolled onto her side and watched a half-naked Michael tie a bun on her head so tight that Uriel winced in sympathy.

"Someone has to," Michael muttered, "or we'll end up as permanent guests right here in this facility."

Uriel scoffed and stood, letting the sheet slide off her bare form. She walked languidly towards her lover and wrapped her arms around her waist. "They never caught us in Uni, and they definitely won't catch us here. I run this place, you know?"

Michael tensed in Uriel's arms. She never knew when to quit. "Well, if my father were still alive and was the CEO of Seraph Surveillance, I wouldn't be too worried about my own hide either." Michael grabbed onto Uriel's wrists and pried her lover's arms open to wiggle out of her embrace. She ignored Uriel's pout and put a new, perfectly ironed pencil skirt on.

"I wouldn't be doing this with you if I thought you were in any danger, okay? I was the one who gave you the blocker to begin with, and there are plenty more–"

"Yes," Michael interrupted and huffed, "then I was interrogated along with Gabriel about why there was a power outage in our office."

"And you both got released without a problem," Uriel retorted. She growled when Michael made no reply and silently put her shoes on. Uriel threw on a robe and whirled around, accusation ready on her lips. "This isn't about being worried over getting caught, is it? It's Gabriel you're worried about. What if he finds out I like pussy as much as cock, am I right?"

Michael shot Uriel with a glare. "We can't keep doing this, and you know it."

Uriel laughed mirthlessly. "But you still need me, yeah? I've given all the loops you need to cover for your broken AI–"

"He is not broken," Michael hissed. Her face softened when she noticed the hurt in Uriel's eyes. Michael approached Uriel, cupped her face, and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "I don't want to fight," Michael whispered. "You know this is risky. They observe me closely because of Aziraphale. You've gotten too comfortable, Uriel. I don't want to be the reason you Fall." She gave Uriel another kiss, more passionate than the last. With a wistful smile, Michael backed away. "And anyway," Michael teased, "I've noticed your little assistant drooling over you. You don't have to settle for me."

Uriel's eyes widened. "She does not  _ drool _ over me!" Her eyes shifted in her head as she looked for clues in her memory. "Oh," Uriel gasped. She shook herself out of it. "Doesn't matter.  _ You're _ the one I trust."

Michael nodded slowly and bit down on her lip. "But you don't love me."

"I do."

Michael arched a brow.

Uriel squirmed under Michael's gaze. "Okay, so it's not 'butterflies in my stomach' kind of love, but I  _ do _ love you." 

"I love you too," Michael murmured with a soft smirk.

Uriel rolled her eyes and sighed. "But not like Gabriel, yeah-yeah."

"You're impossible," Michael chided.

Uriel chuckled and opened one of her drawers. Popping out a secret compartment, Uriel pulled out another small Power Blocker and placed it in Michael's hand, closing her fist around it. "Try not to get interrogated again, please. And don't risk yourself for that idiot, or the robot."

Michael smiled briefly before letting out an unconvincing lie. "I won't."

* * *

The droid had been acting downright odd, well, stranger than usual, Crowley mused. Aziraphale had a new body– _ a much more docile looking one, thank Satan.  _ The droid should have been chuffed about the whole thing, but he just wasn't, like, at all! Aziraphale wasn't his usual chipper, curious self anymore, and it all started when the droid learned of his and Beez's sexuality. 

Of course, Aziraphale would act differently around them now! Crowley slapped a hand to his forehead. Now that he had puzzled that out, it made perfect sense. The angel was of Heaven, and Heaven was of G.O.D., and there was nothing that would change that no matter how much Crowley needled and tempted. Anytime he tried to teach Aziraphale about the past or life outside of Eden, the droid would fall silent and listen but never fished for more information like he usually did.

It wasn't just Crowley who noticed either. Beez had adapted to the droid's new behavior like they always did, by shutting down. No amount of mood stabilizers or morphine could lift their spirits. Today was no different. Beez was as stoic and unmoved as ever when Aziraphale strutted through the infirmary door in his new, sleek form and leaned on the frame like he owned the place.

"Good morning, Demons. How are we today?" The droid greeted with a touch of cheer.

"Gay as ever," Beez spat out with narrowed eyes.

Aziraphale tutted and approached the patients. "You don't seem very gay to me," Aziraphale looked between the rebels, "you’re both scowling, and rather impressively, if I may add."

Crowley scoffed. "You don't have to humor us."

With an even smoother range of motion, Aziraphale shrugged and waved a dismissive hand. "I'm afraid I don't understand, but your demeanor tells me that you'd rather me not be here. Why is that? Have I done something to upset either of you? If I have, I'd like to remedy my error forthwith!"

Beez and Crowley looked to each other for answers and found none. The droid seemed sincere in its cluelessness and offer. 

"You're the one treating us differently, like  _ you _ don't want to be here," Crowley accused. "Just sod off if our identity and sexuality are such a bother to you."

Aziraphale stayed silent and frozen while staring at Crowley right in the eyes. The droid still had no facial expressions, so there was no telling what it was thinking about. "I feel no discomfort in your presence," was his cryptic reply. "If I seem a bit distant, it may be because our meetings will end today."

Beez and Crowley both straightened in their beds. "What do you mean," Beez asked, concern seeping through their passive facade.

Aziraphale turned his head to the smaller rebel. "You are being discharged today," he replied simply. 

Crowley's mouth went dry. That meant he was going to be thrown back in his cell and possibly never see Beez again. But why would he never see Aziraphale again? "What about me?" Crowley asked quietly.

Aziraphale barely faced him when he answered. "You will go elsewhere."

Crowley shot out of bed and got in Aziraphale's face. The droid was a few inches shorter than him, and he used every inch to loom over Aziraphale threateningly. "Where? Eh? Where the fuck are they taking me, and what's gonna happen to Beez here?"

"I'm afraid that is classified information."

"You mean you know, but won't tell us," Beez growled out.

Still looking into Crowley's eyes, Aziraphale spoke. "I'm not allowed access to classified details. I was only told what I've already told you by my superiors."

Crowley leaned back and studied the droid. Though there was not much to go on, Crowley got the feeling that the droid was lying and… sad. "So, what," Crowley murmured, still merely a couple of inches away from touching their noses. "Does that mean you're going to miss us?" Crowley had no idea why that was what had come out of his mouth instead of slight.

Aziraphale stayed ramrod straight and took a calculating moment to answer. "The lack of your presence will certainly be noted, but I'm sure my path will prevent me from missing it."

"What the fuck does that even mean?" Crowley whined with exasperation. "Why are you talking like this? I thought we were friends–" Crowley cut himself off. He had said that without thinking, and it didn't feel like a lie or manipulation. It scared the shit out of him.

Aziraphale's eyes traveled down Crowley's face like he was memorizing every detail until they landed on his lips. He did not pull his gaze away from there when he replied. "Whyever would you think that? You're a demon. I'm an Angel. We're hereditary enemies, you could say."

Crowley flinched back, a surprising pang exploding in his gut. He realized the hurt showed on his features when Aziraphale tilted his head and leaned in closer. Crowley took a step back and nodded, a sneer playing at his lips. "I see how it is," he muttered, dripping with venom. 

"No, I don't think you do," Aziraphale said softly, sadly. 

It only gave Crowley pause for a second before ignoring the enigmatic comment and putting up his walls. "Piss off, clanker," Crowley whispered. Then he turned his back on the droid and walked to Beez's side. By the time he turned back, Aziraphale was almost out the door. 

The droid paused without facing them before stepping out. "I'm glad to have met you both. Goodbye." 

And then Aziraphale was gone, but the urge to scream and cry lingered in his place.

* * *

  
Every day had been the same since Hastur had been forcefully taken from his cell. Wake up at the crack of dawn with the rest of the poor sods, eat "healthy" slop, pick up the shovel, and exhume the dead, then move on to the next grave. He didn't know what happened to those coffins after being dug out.  The best-case scenario was that they were being cremated- he didn't really care to know the worst case.

It was hard labor, and it left Hastur's aging body with aches in places he didn't even know  _ could _ ache. His attempts at rallying some allies within the dismal camp full of listless Idle's, but no one could be bothered to try. Frankly, Hastur had given up too, but he refused to acknowledge it. He wondered if they were all being drugged with mild sedatives, not for the first time. Hastur wasn't one to quit, but every day that passed seemed more hopeless than the last. 

Every fucking day was an exact copy of the last, and it was really dragging Hastur down… until…

Until a fucking military droid put the heart crossways in him and yanked him out of a grave by the back of his shirt.

"Hastur Giddings," the clanker droned, "you are being transferred. Drop your tool and come with me if you want to live."

Hastur snorted but did as the droid commanded. He was too wrecked to be a pain in the arse. He dropped the shovel and let the melter shove him into walking in the direction of a berserker. It wasn't until he was pushed inside that he found it strange to be placed in the cab of a military tank. The droid closed the door, and the tank began to drive itself. A quick look around told Hastur he was alone.  _ Fuck. _ He was dead. They were going to take him out or something–

"Good morning, Mr. Giddings," a chipper and posh British accent greeted through the speakers. "There are snacks and refreshments in the center compartment for you. I know your diet has been lacking, and you'll need to be in tip-top shape for what you are about to do."

"Uh-huh," Hastur said intelligently but also taking everything in stride and shrugging, like this kind of shite happened every day. He knew he'd go crackers someday and decided it was best to slide into lunacy seamlessly and just do what the voice in his head was telling him to do. He rummaged through the food. "Aw," he lamented, "I like vanilla pudding, not chocolate." He pouted at the brown cup in his hand.

"Erm, right then. I guess my diligently thought out speech to convince you that I am an ally is unnecessary. Jolly good! Onward then. As I was saying–"

"This bread is dry," Hastur complained through a mouth full of turkey sandwich, "any mustard in 'ere?"

The voice was quiet for a long moment. "Small square container on the far left."

"I don't see it."

"It' s–you'll have to dig through–"

"Where?"

“Left-left-left! Just move things around–"

"Got it. Thanks, buck."

"You are  _ most _ welcome."

* * *

It was early afternoon when Michael strolled into the office, finding Gabriel scowling while listening to an audiobook. Michael cocked a brow but went about her business setting up her desk and heard without wanting to.

**There comes a time in a child's life where they inevitably rebel against their parents and the status quo.**

"Fuck," Gabriel breathed, his frown deepening.

Michael spun around, eyes wide with shock before pursing her lips and trying desperately not to laugh. "What… are you listening to?"

Gabriel held up a hand without looking at her, which was incredibly rude but, oh, well, that was Gabriel in a nutshell.

**The important thing to remember is that you are most likely not at fault for their sudden change in behavior. You've done your best.**

Gabriel closed his eyes and nodded. "I really have."

**This stage of defiance usually begins to dissipate once the teenager is bombarded with real-life experiences and disillusionments that the world has to offer in heapfuls. Once they know they are, in fact,** **_not_ ** **in control of their own lives, and that "one person can make a difference" is an empty rebel promise, things should go back to normal. Settling hormones also help.**

"What if they don't have hormones?!" Gabriel threw up his hands.

"Wow." Michael was thoroughly amused, staring at her research partner with glinting eyes.

**Rebellion comes in many forms. It could be as simple as wanting privacy or as dangerous as joining the Demon ranks.**

**Here are some indicators that your teenager may be slipping down the slope of rebellion.**

  1. **Communication with the parents dwindles.**



"Check."

  1. **The teenager begins to seek solitude.**



"Check."

  1. **The teenager will test the established boundaries and rules that the parents have placed.**



"Goddammit, yes."

  1. **The teenager will sneak off to "hang with friends," which, in more cases than not, involves breaking the law.**



"Well, thank God that's not happening––"

* * *

"Hold onto your hat, Mr. Giddings," Aziraphale announced with righteous determination, "we are about to break the law!"

“Sounds grand.”

* * *

**Remember, you, the parent, are in control. Perhaps a change in the rules to better fit the teenager's age will stop the defiance altogether. Sometimes, more radical approaches are necessary. Once the new regulations are in place, you must be up to administering the consequences for breaking those rules. Try to encourage good behavior by rewarding them when they do follow the rules. If this changes nothing, seek counseling for you and your teenager. Cherubic Counseling services are available to all G.O.D. employees at no extra cost.**

Michael shook her head at the despondent Gabriel. "Aziraphale is not a child, Gabe."

"Well, unfortunately, 'How to raise your A.I.!' was checked out," Gabriel retorted the sarcasm nasally and with a dramatic sway of his head. He took in a steadying breath and lowered his volume. "What else can we do to curb his behavior? He's acting weird! He talks to Crowley more than any other patient–more than  _ me _ ! Why does he even  _ like _ that guy?! He's an asshole!"

Michael cocked a brow. "Well, maybe you should look up 'Signs Your Teenager has Daddy Issues,'  _ father _ ," she ridiculed. 

Gabriel flinched and furrowed his brow. "What the fuck does that mean?!"

"Hmm, I wonder," Michael tapped her chin and narrowed her eyes with exaggeration. She lifted her hands and began to count on her fingers. "Semi-good looking, tall, full of himself, intelligent to a fault, and  _ extremely _ hard to please no matter how hard Aziraphale tries." She looked up at Gabriel and gave him a Cheshire cat grin. "Looks like he's replaced one asshole for another."

For a long, silent moment, Gabriel pondered on what Michael was on about. His eyes widened comically, and he shot out of his chair. "You think he's changed his allegiance," he hissed/mouthed. 

Michael rolled her eyes. "Gabriel," she said patiently, "if Aziraphale were human, which he is not, I would think he is imprinting on Crowley because of how he's been…  _ raised _ , as you say." 

Gabriel scrunched up his nose like someone had cut the cheese right under his nostrils. "That's nuts. You're saying he could have a crush on Crowley because he sees qualities that Crowley and I share?! Which, by the way, I am  _ nothing _ like that guy," he nearly snarled. "And I am definitely not  _ semi-good looking _ ! I'm a goddamn Adonis, especially compared to that scrawny matchstick!

Michael scoffed and shrugged. "It's not uncommon for a woman to subconsciously date men that share qualities with their fathers. It's a good thing that Aziraphale is A, not human, and B, not a woman."

Before Gabriel could reply, the ground beneath them rumbled. Their eyes widened when a blaring alarm followed right after.

Gabriel lifted his left arm and yelled at his watch, "Aziraphale! Where are you?"

**PLEASE REMAIN CALM. THE FACILITY IS UNDER ATTACK. FOR YOUR SAFETY, ALL DOORS SHALL REMAIN SECURED.**

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Art in this chapter is by TheDigitalArtist on Pixabay.com!
> 
> I tried to balance the angst and humor so the cliffhanger wouldn't be so bad. My physical therapy for my arm is going SPLENDIDLY! Just a couple of sessions has done way more than those awful steroid shots they gave me last time. I'm also doing restorative yoga that helps a lot too! I'm taking BREAKS. Which means I've slowed down in writing. I know I said I'd publish on Saturdays but my health comes first! I know you all understand!
> 
> Thank you so much for all the support, comments, kudos, and encouragement!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Physical therapy is going great! But I'm under strict rules not to overdo things (hahahaha). I'm also working on the rewrites of my novel. I'm getting back to my "up days" soon, so hopefully, that means faster chapters!
> 
> WARNING: HELLA ANGST. Violence. Battle. Character "death."
> 
> Read at your own risk or wait for the next chapter! 
> 
> Beta's: Danypooh, Azeran!! XD

The weak who'd been exiled from society were useless. Put a bunch of broken, sick people together, and the logic is that they are too inadequate to rebel–especially if you leave them uneducated. Throughout history, many monarchs, tyrants, and "leaders" used this logic, and it worked really well for them, but... not for long. Eventually, the caste system fails because of the simple  _ logic  _ that injustice usually makes people bitter. Go figure. When people get angry, they show it–with rebellion.

Crowley remembered his childhood as one big white blur, raised in a facility very much like the one he was trapped in now. The small room that he shared with three others had felt cramped, but when those three disappeared one by one until only he was left, the closet-like space felt smaller than ever. He'd lost count as to how many times he'd dreamt of being buried alive.

_ The ground shook. Little Anthony ran. He ran as fast as his skinny legs would allow—all in vain. The ground cracked open before him. He slid to a stop just before toppling into the ditch. He was going to die. Anthony spun on his heel only to trip backward toward the edge, a looming presence forcing him to retreat. _

_ The blinding afternoon sun made it hard to see at first.  _

_ It was an angel!! Wings, and all, extended to protect Anthony from the rain of bullets zipping through the air. Relief shot through Anthony only briefly because the angel grabbed and lifted him by the collar.  _

_ Without a word, the angel threw him into the growing chasm.  _

_ Anthony fell. _

Crowley didn't have time to unravel the new elements in his recurring nightmare. Screaming awake from his afternoon nap was the only thing he had time to do before the sound of an explosion shook his world.

Crowley's eyes were wild and confused when Beez yanked him out of bed by the arm. He noticed the smooth white floors begin to crack under their feet as they ran aimlessly through the open door.

Was this another new facet to his disturbing dream?

"Fuck-fuck-fuck!" Beez hissed as doors began to disappear behind lockdown shutters. "This way!" They dragged Crowley through the hall toward the sound of blasts. 

"Why are we running  _ toward _ a battle?" Crowley cried out in alarm.

"Idiot," Beez breathed "because it's probably our lot out there!"

_ Well, that's smart _ . Crowley was obviously still disoriented. He picked up the pace until Beez felt confident they could let him go.

The halls seemed endless, and for some reason, there was a clear path of open doors guiding them onward, automatically sliding shut behind them as they passed. When they turned another corner, they were met with a small army of military droids.

"Oh, shit!"

* * *

Michael was pretty sure Gabriel would dislocate his shoulder, trying to bust through the barrier, keeping them stranded in their office.

"Gabriel, it's no use!"

He slammed into the door one more time before backing away panting. Then the power went out.

"What now?!" Gabriel yelled in the pitch black.

The emergency backup power must have kicked in because a red blinking light appeared above their blocked off exit. The engineer's faces glowed crimson, on and off, revealing their frightened faces to one another. 

The light blinked off and on again, and then Gabriel was towering over Michael, placing comforting hands on her shoulders. She hadn't known she'd been shaking up until that moment. 

"Mike," Gabriel murmured, "whatever happens..."

"Gabriel..."

The power turned back on, blinding them both.

"Gabriel? Michael? Are you in there?! I'm getting you out!" It was Uriel's voice on the other side of the door.

Gabriel released Michael and jumped away. "Ah, thank fuck," he sighed with relief.

Three loud blasts later, and the door gave way. The dust cleared, revealing their heroine rushing in to envelop Michael in her arms.

"Mike! Are you okay, love?" Uriel leaned back enough to gauge Michael's state. 

_ Love. _ Gabriel blinked from one woman to the other, the apparent affection and familiarity between them not lost on him. He felt his stomach sour instantly at the realization. Gabriel swallowed hard. He tried to shelve the information for further scrutiny but found himself tearing Uriel away from his partner anyway. 

"What the hell is going on, Uriel?" Gabriel demanded.

The head of the facility glared at him for only a moment before taking a breath. "We've been hacked. Our droids and tanks are not responding to our orders, and now they're attacking us."

Michael sent a hand to her mouth in shock. "But how?"

Uriel shook her head. "We're not sure yet, but..." she looked between the two engineers pointedly, "we think your AI is behind it."

The room grew deathly quiet before another loud rumble sounded. 

Gabriel ripped off his lab coat and rolled up his sleeves as he marched out. "I'm gonna kill 'im," he grumbled furiously. "Wait 'til I get my hands on that ungrateful little  _ shit _ !"

Michael and Uriel shared a look before following the angry "alpha male" who had already picked up a large piece of pipe from the rubble and was stalking purposefully towards two military droids guarding a hole in the wall.

"Gabriel!" Michael called out in alarm as she watched him lift the pipe like a baseball bat and stalked right for them without a moment's pause.

"Dr. Archangel," one of the droids warned, "stand down, or we'll be forced to–"

Gabriel's stance widened, one foot pivoting directly at the talking droid, and then he swung. The pipe cracked the droid's head so hard that it went limp and slammed into the other beside it. Before the other droid could steady itself, Gabriel swung again. This time, the head came clean off and bounced off the ceiling. The machine came crashing down, and Gabriel continued his trek as if he hadn't just pulled two Babe Ruth's and bested both highly armed, deadly machines with nothing but a makeshift bat.

"Holy shit," Uriel uttered with a cocked brow at Michael, whose mouth was slack in shock. "I know I'm a lesbian, but I think I just soaked my pants."

* * *

There was no way in hell that they would escape without looking like Swiss cheese, Crowley was one-hundred percent sure. He was also pretty confident that his heart had stopped dead. Crowley's legs were doing their own thing, running away like one of those geckos on water only to skid to a stop before more droids. They were surrounded.

"B," Crowley rasped, "it was nice knowin’ ya."

"I wish I could say the same," Beez replied, trembling head to foot.

The droids pointed their guns, and all Crowley could see was red. He closed his eyes and took what was surely to be his last breath. 

* * *

Hastur cocked a brow when the tank floored over an electric fence, zips and spurts barely heard over the things roaring engine. The impromptu adventure was turning out to be more fun than he expected. Hastur wondered when he'd wake from the obvious fever dream, but now that he was invested, he might as well participate!

"Oi, dandy boy!" Hastur called out to his imaginary friend. "Can I blow shit up?"

"I'd prefer it if you were to abstain from any pyrotechnic impulses until we reach the Eastern gate. There, on my command, you may 'blow shit up' to your heart's content."

"Gonna get savage," Hastur grinned evilly while he wrapped his hands around what he hoped was the massive gun outside the small window. 

"Do try not to kill or maim anyone," the voice pleaded.

"Can't promise nothin'. Is that it?" Hastur finally discovered the periscope and peeked through. "That wall?"

"Yes."

"Can we get some music on or something? Feels like one of those moments."

"Ah, yes!" Aziraphale exclaimed happily. "Set the mood, the hero's on the charge! I think I have just the thing."

At once, Offenbach's Orpheus in the Underworld boomed in the cab. Hastur waved a dismissive hand. "A bit on the nose, don't you think?"

"You don't like it?" 

Hastur frowned and shrugged. "Well, I didn't say that. It's just very V for Vendetta-ish."

"My inspiration, precisely!" Aziraphale exclaimed proudly. "But I can change it."

"Nah. 'S alright."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. But you better get to the good bit," Hastur warned. "That big building is looking bigger by the second."

"Right you are, Mr. Giddings." There was a skip in the music, and then the "good bit" was playing loudly and proudly.

Hastur smirked. "Right. When do you want me to shoot?"

"Erm, now would be a good time."

"Right now?"

"Yes, now-now-now!!"

* * *

Crowley heard a loud bang that was quickly replaced with nothing but high pitched ringing in his ears. His body flew backward, breaking some ribs when he crash-landed. When he finally had a chance to breathe, his lungs filled with dust. Coughing like mad, Crowley covered his mouth and nose with his shirt and tried to see through the chaos. 

Crowley tripped over Beez, who laid unconscious on the ground. He steeled himself for pain as he crouched and lifted them in his arms. He barely knew what he was doing or where he was going, but the dust finally cleared enough to see a giant tank breaching a massive hole in the wall. Then the door opened, revealing–

"Hastur!" Crowley rushed forward, jumping over rubble and dodging disoriented droids. His struggle earned him a deeper crack in his aching bones.

Hastur took Beez, and Crowley climbed in right after.

"What the fuck is happening?!" Crowley was wild-eyed and shaking.

Hastur shrugged. "I haven't got a baldy, coppertop. Just following orders."

"Whose orders?!" Crowley screeched.

"The dandy boy."

Crowley would have done a full-body shrug but hissed at the attempt. "Who in the bleedin' fuck is dandy boy?"

"Hell if I know," Hastur gruffed dryly while taking aim and firing within the building. "Thought I was going loopers." He fired again. "Could still be, I guess." The tank began to back up and out of the hole. 

"Everyone safe and sound?" A chipper Aziraphale asked through the speakers.

"Aziraphale?!" Crowley shouted.

"Hello! Well, it really was a pleasure, but I've done everything I can. Once the vehicle drives past the network line, I won't be able to control it. You'll have to drive it yourselves. I've uploaded a map for you. Good luck... and... goodbye."

There was a soft click and then silence.

"Wait," Crowley breathed, "wait! Aziraphale, you did this?! Aziraphale?"

"Think he's gone, mate," said Hastur with a wary sideways glance. "Friend of yours?"

"Stop," Crowley commanded, "go back, we need to go back."

Hastur gave Crowley an incredulous look. "You’re madder than a box of frogs–we can't go back!"

"We need to get Aziraphale."

"He got us this far. I think he can handle himself."

"I SAID, GO BACK!"

"I CAN'T!"

"FINE!"

* * *

Aziraphale unplugged and walked over to a window. From the third floor, he could see the tank that housed his friends racing away from the compound and towards freedom. He placed his hand to the pane and looked on, longing and melancholy gnawing away at him. If he had proper eyes, they'd have gushed tears. In lieu of crying, he banged his head on the window and roared out all the emotions that overwhelmed him. He felt like his mind was being sucked up into a cyclone, every feeling he'd ever felt and more swirling into one supercell of pain.

"Aziraphale!" Gabriel banged on the door. "Sandalphon?! Is anyone in there?!"

"Time to face the music," Aziraphale uttered. He walked towards Sandalphon's desk and lifted the lock on the door. 

Gabriel was the first one through. He was red-faced with a look of worry and rage fighting for dominance. He looked around and caught sight of a fuming Sandolphon, gagged, and tied to a chair. He ignored him and charged for his AI.

"What in the mother-fucking- _ fuck, _ Aziraphale?!" Gabriel towered over his creation, gripping his pipe hard. 

"Don't say a single word, Aziraphale," Michael warned as she raced into the room. 

Uriel followed and groaned when she caught sight of her co-worker. She worked on releasing him. As soon as his gag came off, Sandolphon let loose a barrage of curses while Uriel literally pushed him out of the room. The door closed behind them.

"Is this room secure?" Michael asked quickly. 

Aziraphale gave a curt nod. "I haven't lifted communications yet. I wanted a moment to explain myself to you and Gabriel."

"Then start explaining," Gabriel snarled as he tapped the pipe threateningly into his free hand.

Aziraphale looked from one engineer to the other. "Well... what  _ happened _ was–"

"Isn't that Crowley?" asked Michael.

Aziraphale spun around and pressed his face to the window. "Good heavens!" 

* * *

Crowley had opened the door and jumped out to the sound of Hastur's favorite Irish expletives. Even at the tank's painfully slow speed, Crowley rolled and tumbled and blessed his adrenaline that refused to come down. He barely felt the fall before he was off running to save Aziraphale.

Along the way, Crowley's brain supplied him with facts.  _ You've lost the fucking plot, you're a fuckin loon! He's a droid! A program! He'll be fine without you. Arsehole! _

Crowley was never really good at following orders, especially when they were sensible, and especially if they came from himself. He wasn't even thinking clearly- and he knew that - but every cell in his being pushed Crowley toward his unlikely friend and savior. 

Aziraphale hadn't abandoned them. Aziraphale planned their escape, alone. Aziraphale's temperament change and farewell made so much sense now. There was no way Aziraphale wouldn't be melted down and used to can tuna fish after this–and the droid was aware. Aziraphale knew the risks and did it anyway. He was a better man than Crowley, and he wasn't even a man.

_ Piss off, clanker.  _

Those would  _ not _ be his last words to someone who had saved his life twice!

"I'm gonna  _ die _ ," Crowley whined pitifully.

* * *

Aziraphale was off like a shot. "He's going to die! What is he thinking?!" He was at the breach in the wall just before Crowley could get in. 

"Aziraphale!"

Aziraphale opened his arms wide and blocked Crowley's path. "Are you mad?! What are you doing?!"

"Saving a friend," Crowley panted as he came to a stop, hugging his chest with one arm. 

Aziraphale shook his head quickly. "I didn't know there was someone else, I'm sorry, but it's too late to save them–"

"You! You, I came to save  _ you _ . Come with us." Crowley winced and hissed in pain but stood strong. 

Stunned. Aziraphale was stunned. His arms dropped to his sides. "What?"

Crowley looked over his shoulder to see the tank coming back for him and Aziraphale. "Come on, angel, whaddya want, an apology? I’m apologizing. Happy? Let's go," he snatched Aziraphale's hand and tugged, "get in the tank!"

Aziraphale let Crowley pull him a few steps before he rooted his feet in place. "No, Crowley," Aziraphale said softly. "I-I can't."

"Whaddya mean?! Come on, we can go off together, they're coming back for us."

Aziraphale ripped his hand away. "I can't come with you, Crowley. I'm not finished."

Crowley threw his head back and groaned. "Who cares?! They're gonna destroy you if you stay."

"Maybe, but if I can talk to the right people–"

"There are no right people! LET'S GO!" Crowley lunged for the droid again, but Aziraphale pulled him into an embrace. Crowley's whole body tensed, and he held his breath.

"Thank you, Crowley. For everything," Aziraphale murmured into his ear, "but I'm not a person, remember? If I'm destroyed, I will feel no pain. You, however, they will take your secrets and then your life. I can't have that. Don't waste this opportunity I've made for you. Now go." Aziraphale pushed Crowley away forcefully, making him stumble back. His face was flushed, he was breathing hard and shallow, and he was so crestfallen that Aziraphale nearly pulled him back into another hug. 

"Aziraphale," Crowley rasped, eyes beginning to water, "If you ever escape, come find me." Crowley backed away, the tank rolling to a halt behind him. "The Tree of Knowledge is for all to taste. Remember that." 

Beez exited the vehicle and screeched. "YOU BARMY FUCKS, GET IN!"

"Aziraphale!" Gabriel called out from afar.

"GO!" Aziraphale yelled.

A new batch of droids filled the hall.

"No!" Gabriel cried. "Don't shoot!"

Crowley felt Beez grab his shirt and pull. He watched as the deadly machines raised their weapons. "Aziraphale!" 

The droid looked over his shoulder then back to Crowley. He opened his arms again, trying to shield the demons as much as possible before the air filled with hurtling bullets.

Crowley watched in horror as he was dragged away by Beez. Aziraphale stood firm, bits and pieces flying off him as he blocked the worst of the onslaught. Just as Crowley was yanked into the tank's safety, Crowley could have sworn he heard Aziraphale say:

"Tis better to have lo–"

The shutting of the door blocked out the rest. The tank rolled in reverse, and Hastur returned fire. 

Before Crowley's very eyes, Aziraphale dropped to his knees, and the blue glow of his eyes vanished. 

“I’m sorry, Crowley,” Beez whispered. They turned their face away while squeezing Crowley’s shoulder.

“Rest in peace, dandy boy,” Hastur added somberly.

There was a tightness in Crowley’s chest that had nothing to do with his broken ribs. 

_ Goodbye, angel. _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW! SO SAD!!! Don't worry, I always promise a happy ending. ;)


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 years later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, look! I’m still alive! Lol I’ve been busy with voiceovers and trying to get Searlus and the Sailor published before my bday this month (the 29 eep)! Today, I finished my–hopefully– final changes. Once the editor approves, self-publishing should a piece of cake.... right? ::pants::
> 
> I will be removing Searlus and the Sailor from Ao3 and FFN. So, if you’d like to keep the version that’s up right now, make sure to download it and save it somewhere.
> 
> On with the show!

Earn a living. What a bizarre phrase, Crowley mused, three sheets to the wind on the worst moonshine he'd ever had the displeasure of tasting. All his parents wanted for Crowley was to be enough to earn a living. They wanted him to survive in the new world that his father helped create. 

"Fuck that," he slurred, "I don' nee' ta earn ta lif."

"Cheers!" 

"Thanksss, random perssson! Amma righ'? I'm so righ'." Crowley nodded and sipped the last drop of the forsaken engine fuel they called whiskey. 

It was supposed to be a night of celebration. He was supposed to be happy. It had been three years since his grand escape from the Eastern Camp. Three bloody years to the day. 

"Long live the Serpent!" Another recruit hailed as they passed by with a grin.

"Fuck off," Crowley grumbled.

When he, Beez, and Hastur made it back to Demon headquarters, Lucifer, the Morningstar himself, came to question them. They told him as much as they could. They regaled them with tales of miraculous escape and attributed their victory to a friend who was lost in the battle. A friend, by the name of Angel, had sacrificed his life for theirs. No one mentioned his real name. No one dared say what he was because Crowley forbade it.

At the time, he didn't know why he wanted to keep it a secret. It just felt wrong to expose Aziraphale. Lucifer might be the fearless leader of the Demons, but he was no saint. Crowley didn't want Aziraphale tainted by the Morningstar's songs of artificial praises. Fuck that! Aziraphale was Crowley's!

And wasn't that a thought? 

Once that uncomfortable revelation made itself known, Crowley snuffed it out, and he dug for another reason why they should keep quiet on the matter.

What if... What if Aziraphale survived? What if Aziraphale escaped someday and came looking for Crowley? What if Lucifer found out who and what Aziraphale was?

Lucifer would use him.

There. That explained Crowley's decision to mute the droid’s existence. What it didn't explain was why Crowley felt so protective of Aziraphale. Crowley decided that there was no reason to figure it out because... well... because Aziraphale was gone. Aziraphale didn't make it out. Aziraphale had been shot to hell before Crowley's very eyes. 

"M'so sorry," Crowley mumbled through his drunken haze. Drinking never washed away the bad memories as much as he wished it did. 

Crowley, Beez, and Hastur received commendations and promotions for their inside information and their valiant escape.

"My point is–my point is that nobody, not one soul, has earned the right to live! Wanna know why? Because we didn't earn a right to be-be born! Hell, it’s not even our doing! Being born, that is. Not our fault. Nope. But then it’s up to us to survive. And we can survive if we work together but the problem, and here is the kicker, there are arseholes out there who think they are better than me–I mean others, and they screw it up for everyone else. So these arseholes made up this earning a living rubbish when they haven’t earned shite–when they didn’t have a say in being born either! It’s not like ‘oh, I came out of my mum’s vagina better than you so-so-so’– what was I saying?”

“Vaginas,” Hastur supplied with a sagely nod.

Crowley blinked and held up his empty glass with purpose. “Right! Yeah. They’re nice,” he shrugged. “So thas ma point.” Crowley sniffed and melted out of his chair and right to the floor. “The angel, though? He didn’t have a say either, ya know? Not his fault he was cre-eh- _ born _ and he-he-he didn’t cut it. Like me, ya know, like us. So-so-so why does someone else get to decide whether we live or not? We didn’t decide to be born so logically no one should decide who dies! Especially based on some bullshit rules made up by rich old farts who just want to hang on to invisible, make-believe power. Guess what, rich fart, I was born on the same bloody planet as you without my consent so the planet and everything in it is  _ my home _ and you can’t tell me to get off it!”

“Amen,” belched Hastur before passing out entirely.

Crowley looked around, his inebriation causing blurred vision so he couldn’t tell who was the last left standing. No one was standing. He was certain he was the only one still awake though, so that meant he’d won the bizarre drinking game. Crowley waited maybe half a second more before deciding it was safe to close his eyes and sleep. Just as he was about to doze off, he heard an ominous little voice mumble in his ear.

“I winna gehn, prrrrrick.”

Bless it. Beez had triumphed once more.

* * *

The demon council met often to talk strategy. Unfortunately, strategizing was all they had been able to do for years. GOD’s grip on the world only grew stronger and it was getting harder to find enough weaknesses to make a dent. Since Crowley had passed up the opportunity to be a prince, Beez took the position and lorded it over him any chance they got. Crowley and Hastur remained dukes in their squad, while Beez became Crowley's direct supervisor. Beez would meet with the council and then meet with their dukes. Dukes weren’t supposed to be privy to more classified information but Beez trusted them and divulged everything.

Beez marched into Crowley’s room, Hastur trailing closely behind them. Before closing the door, they checked the halls to see if anyone followed. When they were safely locked within, Crowley served the ale while Hastur set the table up for a game of cards. If anyone intruded, that was their sorry excuse for a cover, but no one would bother.

“Morningstar wants to lead an attack,” Beez announced as they turned a seat around and straddled it with their arms resting on its back support. 

“What’s new?” Crowley asked. “He’s always bloodthirsty, but unless something has changed, then I don’t see how he’s going to lead anything.”

Beez nodded. “Something  _ has _ changed. Apparently, there is a new weapon.”

“There’s always a new weapon,” Hastur droned while he lit his cigarette. 

“But this weapon is the key to cracking Heaven open,” Beez continued with an arched brow. “It’s big, whatever it is.”

Crowley scoffed. “They don’t even know what it is!”

“No,” Beez conceded, “but they know  _ where _ it is.”

There was a long moment of silent contemplation between the three. Crowley shuffled the cards idly, Hastur finished his smoke, and Beez stared at their full glass of beer. 

“Where is it then?” Hastur finally broke the silence.

“In Eden.”

“Of course!” Crowley dropped the deck and sprawled back in his chair. “And I’m guessing they’re sending us fools to get it, yeah? Just like last time.”

“No, actually,” Beez sighed. “We’ve been ordered to go elsewhere. Morningstar doesn’t want to send familiar faces back to Eden. We’ve been ordered to train recruits in the sixth circle.”

“Good,” Hastur said with a deep frown, “we lost too many already on our last mission to that blessed place. Ligur knew it was a suicide mission. I should have listened to him…” his voice cracked.

Beez knocked on the table twice and saluted the air. “He was a good man.”

Crowley mimicked the gesture solemnly. “A good friend.”

Hastur cleared his throat and nodded. “If it hadn't been for Dandy Boy, we’d be dead too. And though I wish it was me in the ground and not my Ligur, someone has to watch out for you two pricks.” Hastur knocked on wood and saluted as well. 

Crowley swallowed and chose not to comment further about Ligur or Aziraphale. There were too many dead. Crowley had stopped counting after the angel. What was the point? They were all done for anyway. They were all on borrowed time. Whether this mission went Lucifer’s way or not, the Demons would never win the War. GOD was just too strong.

“I’ll deal,” Crowley muttered. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The investigation regarding what had transpired at the Eastern Camp had lasted a full three years. The research was seized, all correspondences were studied with a finely toothed comb, arrests were made, enemy and allies alike had been interrogated and threatened. 

Gabriel and Michael were no exception. Being head engineers of GOD did nothing to protect them from due procedures or suspicions. But they had been prepared. Michael and Gabriel were questioned separately, and they could only hope they recounted the same story. No matter how much they tried to get them to confess to any little thing, even after some grueling solitary confinement, the research partners had pulled through and were finally released.

Gabriel had been the first to come back to work. Walking through his lab was like walking into a bad dream. Better than the nightmare of his solitary cell, but still not great. He didn’t want to be there. He had honestly wondered if he’d ever see the light of day again. There was no escaping GOD, especially not now. He was being watched under the microscope of the almighty Heaven. 

There was a new head of the department, which Gabriel was horrified to find out with Sandalphon .  _ Is he even an engineer?! _ He was head of security in the Eastern Camp! What was he doing in a lab? Gabriel was only being called in as an on-call research consultant, which meant fuck all. He hoped to see Michael, but she was nowhere around. He had no idea what had befallen his research partner, but he could only hope she was still alive. He had a lot of time to think in that cage, a lot of time indeed. And there were some words he desperately needed to tell Michael.

Gabriel had a hard time concentrating on anything. He still felt outside of himself and they let him sit around doing nothing most of the time but then a special day came.

“Dr. Archangel,” said the sleaze bag with golden teeth, “I have something to show you. You see, since I’ve been in charge here, I’ve hired the greatest minds in the world. And they were able to replicate you and Dr. Brigad’s research. So you see? You weren’t really that special to begin with.”

Gabriel did not take the bait. They may have had all the research and maybe had the greatest minds on the planet, but there was essential information missing from their accounts and notes. Essential information that he did not leak to anyone. If they had found out what it was, the only reasonable explanation was that they had broken Michael. And that thought scared the hell out of him.

“Glad to hear it,” he said instead with a polite smile. “So does that mean you already have yourself a suitable replacement for my prototype?”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Sandolphon sneered. 

Gabriel brought up his hands and slowly clapped three times. “Good to know you were able to find people who could read.”

Sandalphon advanced and tried to loom over Gabriel who was sitting down. But even though Gabriel was on a low chair, it was still difficult for the short, rounder man to intimidate him.

“Listen here. You May have fooled the interrogators, and you may have fooled the Metatron but you will never fool me. I think you sabotaged us. I think you’re a traitor. You and that bitch.”

Gabriel stood up lightning-fast and Sandalphon backpedaled, tripping over himself and into a chair. It was Gabriel’s turn to loom over the man. “You can  _ think _ all you want, you’ll just tire yourself out since you’re not used to it. And if you ever speak ill of Michael again, let’s just say you’re going to need replacements for those teeth.

“Really now, boys? I leave for a few years and when I come back, the lab has turned into a ‘Whose dick is bigger contest?’”

Gabriel’s whole body seized up, his grip tightened, making his fingernails dig deep into his skin. That was Michael‘s voice. More somber and rougher, but it was hers. Gabriel turned around slowly and pursed his lips, trying desperately to keep tears at bay.

“Mike…”

“Dr. Archangel,” she replied formally without looking him in the eye. 

Gabriel’s heart gave a painful squeeze in his chest. Had they broken her, turned her, had they brainwashed her? Had they hurt her?

“I’m merely here as a consultant. Why don’t we take a look at the fruits of your labor,” she droned at Sandalphon.

Gabriel wasn’t gonna let her get away with that cold greeting. He was too emotionally strung out to care if they were going to be consequences. He strutted up to her and gave her a grim look before suddenly embracing her, practically lifting her off the ground.

She had yelped in surprise and had gone rigid in his arms. “I’m so glad you’re back,” Gabriel hissed into her ear. “Are you okay?”

“I will be once I can breathe,” she rasped. Gabriel set her down softly, put his hands on her shoulder, and leaned back to get a good look at his research partner. He searched her eyes desperately trying to see if his Michael was still there and intact.

“I’m fine. Let’s just get to work,” she replied coldly.

There was a brief flash of sadness that Gabriel noticed. But it told him she was there. She was still there under this mask, which he never recognized she always wore. Why hadn’t he realized that before? She had always worn a mask with him. He was done with masks. But he didn’t want her hurt. So he let her go and stepped back, and for her sake, put his own mask on. “I’m relieved, truly,” he whispered genuinely.

“All right, lovebirds,” Sandalphon jeered. He stood up and dusted off his lab coat and adjusted his cuffs. “Follow me.”

Sandalphon led Gabriel and Michael through the restricted area of the laboratory. When they walked inside there was a man standing there, waiting at attention. He was wearing a soldier’s uniform, though his demeanor was odd for a soldier. He was an average looking man. He wasn’t very tall or muscular, in fact, he was rather on the soft side and older than most in the army. His white-blond hair was the only remarkable thing about him. He took a step forward in their direction and stopped to salute Sandalphon.

“At ease,” Sandalphon declared proudly with a smug grin.

Gabriel and Michael looked at each other warily and back to the soldier.

“Who’s this?” Gabriel asked.

Sandalphon raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes comically. “What, you don’t recognize it? All the years you spent on your research and you don’t even recognize your own work standing right in front of you?”

Michael was the first one to gasp in realization. Gabriel was too stunned to move or even think. He stared at the stranger and could not believe Sandalphon’s implications. Unshed tears welled up in Gabriel’s eyes. “Aziraphale?” he let out softly.

There was no recognition in the man‘s eyes when he spoke. “I am AI-NGL-2.0. Aziraphale is what you called your prototype, am I correct?”

He sounded just like he used to except more human–but it was the same voice. The same cadence. The same posh accent that he’d chosen for himself because of Star Wars of all things. And yet it wasn’t him, was it? It was a copy. Surely there must be something wrong with it without the vital information Michael and Gabriel kept hidden away in their heads. The thought of Michael breaking and revealing their secrets came to mind again and he could not find any anger in his heart toward her if she had. But if she had, why was Gabriel still around? They would’ve known he was lying unless Michael somehow convinced them that he had no knowledge of it all. Extremely doubtful.

Michael finally addressed it. “Pleasure to meet you, AI-NGL-2.0. Yes, the prototype had chosen his own name and gender and he did call himself Aziraphale. What shall we call you?”

“Angel Two is sufficient. Or just Two. Whatever’s easiest,” it replied with no feeling.

“Do you not have a desire to choose a name for yourself?” Michael questioned, clearly trying to gauge how similar the prototype and the new program were.

“My name was already given to me. There is no need to change it. If it is to be changed, it will not be by my decision. Unlike your previous AI, I follow orders to the letter. There is no need for imagination to get my job done.”

“And what is your job,” Gabriel asked quietly.

With all the poise and casualness in the world, Two replied. “To assassinate the Morning Star and turn the rebels on themselves from the inside. I must admit, your prototype had the right idea. He was able to gain the trust of a high-ranking Demon. Three actually. That is quite an accomplishment, but it came at too high a cost. It could’ve been handled much differently and with less of a financial blow.

Gabriel turned to Sandalphon and scoffed. “He’s a killing machine who looks and acts like he’s about to serve us tea and biscuits.”

“It was Two’s idea actually. Quite brilliant. He needs to seem unassuming. And let’s face it,” this he said with a mocking tone, “is quite unassuming. There is no way anyone will see him as a threat. So there will be less suspicion when he joins the rebels.”

“That’s the plan?” Gabriel said, unimpressed. “Same as the old one? Sending the AI as a spy and assassin by posing as a Demon? Aziraphale could’ve handled that. You need a program that can think outside the box and take matters into his own hands. This guy,” he pointed angrily at the blond synthetic man standing in the center of the room. “This guy only follows orders to the  _ letter _ ,” he pronounced. “Who’s gonna give him orders while in their camp? The demons will see right through him. He might look human, but I doubt he could actually pass as one for very long.”

“I disagree, Dr. Archangel,” said Two. “Your AI exhibited strange behaviors towards the end of its life.”

Gabriel scowled at being reminded of his creation being destroyed.

“It may have been that he was playing his part too well. He was  _ too _ human. And his loyalties seemed to lie with the enemy. Since I am an improved version, code was added to my programming to stay loyal to GOD and completely my objective without flaw.”

All could do was shake his head and huff with indignation. “Whatever you say, guy.”

“Dr. Brigad,” Sandalphon smiled, “are you happy to see your work successful unlike this traitor over here?”

Michale chuckled mirthlessly. “I can assure your Gabriel is no traitor. He just doesn’t like to be one-upped by anyone. You’ve clearly succeeded where he has not.” Michael glared in his direction then looked back to the AI. “Are you wearing my synthetic body,” she asked it.

The AI smiled but it did not reach his eyes. “Indeed I am. You did quite a magnificent job replicating the human body. Come.” He held out his hand. “You can touch if you like.”

Michael approached him and Gabriel stayed by her side. He wanted an up-close inspection of the copy, but he didn’t know what this AI was capable of.  Michael slid her hand into the Two’s and let out a slow breath. She nodded, swallowed, and smiled slightly. She squeezed his hand, traced her fingers over his knuckles, and looked immensely proud. 

Gabriel watched, a hot rage taking over that he hadn’t felt in three years. When he looked up at the AI, his rage was snuffed out by what felt like a cold bucket of water. Two was staring intently at him without blinking and with a small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. It was unnerving. No one would think this  _ thing _ was unassuming and weak. He had the eyes of a psychopath! 

And then something strange happened. 

It might’ve been Gabriel‘s imagination, but he could’ve sworn that the eyes on the AI softened right before it winked at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooooo! What do you think? Is “Aziraphale” gone? Is this copy different? Who’s side is he on?!?!?!?!? AHHHH!!!


	10. Chapter 10

Michael did everything in her power to avoid being alone with Gabriel, but she was so relieved to see him alive and well. Even with the haunted gaze and thinner physique, he was as handsome as ever. Being almost a decade his senior already made her look older next to him, but now? Three harrowing years of interrogation, drugs, dismal nutrition, and long bouts of unwanted solitude had done quite the number on her. 

Michael’s blonde hair had greyed substantially, her frown lines had deepened, there was a little loose skin under her chin that was driving her up the fucking wall.

And yet…

And yet Gabriel hadn’t even batted an eye when he gazed at her for the first time since their separation. He’d looked at her like she was some kind of angel sent by God Herself. There was something different about him, of course there was–he’d most likely received the same foul treatment as she. But the dark cloud that hung over him seemed to clear some whenever he looked at her. 

“Hey,” Gabriel murmured from across the breakroom table. The only thing in front of him was a protein shake–barely touched. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Michael tried her best not to show fear. She shot him a gaze that hopefully translated to ‘shut the fuck up, you idiot! We are being watched.’

It seemed he got the message because he opened his mouth and then clamped it shut again. She went back to her salad, but Gabriel spoke again.

“Have you seen Uriel?” he asked casually.

Shutting her eyes hard to will away the burning in them, Michael shook her head. She snapped them open when she felt a large, warm hand cover her own. She stared, unblinking, at his gentle touch.

“I, uh, just want you to know that I’ve always liked you,” Gabriel said quietly.

Slowly, Michael’s gaze traveled up to see the earnestness in his green eyes. She briefly wondered why he ever chose to wear those stupid purple contacts before when his eyes were already unique and gorgeous. Wait. Had Gabriel really just said that?

Gabriel cleared his throat, looked down at the table, and then back up again with renewed confidence. “I’ve always liked you _exactly_ for who you are. Nothing will ever change that.” After a long moment of silence, Gabriel squeezed her hand and smiled. He released his grip and sipped at his protein shake. “So, yeah,” he said casually, with a polite smile, as if he hadn’t been showing _feelings_. “Let me know if you hear from Uriel. She was, uh, she was cool. It’d be nice to know how she’s doing.” Gabriel gave her a grin that didn’t reach his eyes in the least.

 _Ah_ , Michael thought with disappointment, _so that’s what that was._ He knew about her and Uriel and was giving her his ‘gay support’ or something. _Wondefrul_. “Yes, I’ll let you know. Once I’m allowed to communicate off grounds, I plan to reach out to her. Thank you for asking.” 

Gabriel shrugged and peered down at his shake. “Sure. No prob.”

What the fuck had she been expecting? _‘Hey, Mike, wanna grab dinner sometime?’_

“Hey, Mike?” Gabriel called out again.

“What?” She replied without looking up, impaling her leafy greens with furious resentment.

“If you’re _free_ ,” Gabriel let out cautiously, “wanna grab dinner sometime? Tonight even? Whenever.”

If there hadn't been a carrot in her mouth, she would have cracked a tooth for sure. Michael swallowed down her food with difficulty and placed a hand on her chest as she took a much-needed gulp of water. She finally met his hopeful gaze and not-so-quite nonchalantly as she’d hoped, repeated, “Dinner?”

“Only if you're _free_ , of course.”

“Free?”

“Yeah.”

Michael nodded. Was this asking her out on a _date_ if her _heart_ was _free_? Or free as in she had nothing planned? “Yes, I’m free.” Which was true on both accounts.

Gabriel smiled genuinely, pearly white teeth glistening, and sighed with relief. “Good. Maybe we can finally talk about Two and what his deal is without Golden Chops sticking his nose in it.”

Michael bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming.

* * *

There weren’t that many places to choose from for dinner inside the area they were restricted in, but Gabriel picked the best option. A shit place that thought they served “nostalgic Italian” food. To be honest, Gabriel had forgotten what real Italian food tasted like anyway, so it wasn’t a huge disappointment. The food was just bland and their salads sucked. He wasn’t in the mood for a salad anyway. 

“I’m gonna have pizza,” Gabriel announced with conviction as he slammed the menu down on the table.

Michael’s eyebrows nearly disappeared. “Really? You? Carbs? Cheese?”

Gabriel chuckled and shrugged. “You only live once, right?” 

Their smiles faded slowly. Yes, one only lived once and they were both very aware of how fragile their lives were at that moment.

“You know?” Michael dropped her own menu. “Pizza sounds disgusting but everything else on here sounds worse. Pizza for me too.”

“That’s my girl!” Gabriel cheered. He froze when Michael suddenly lost all her mirth. 

“What?”

Michael shook it off and sighed with a tight smile. “Nothing. Let’s get our orders in and talk about whatever you wanted to talk about.”

The change in mood left Gabriel a little blindsided but he did as she suggested and typed in their order. “Well, this new program, what do you think?”

Michael rested her chin in her hand, looking weary but contemplative. “It’s certainly impressive. Interesting choice, that body, but I see how it can benefit the cause.”

“But you don’t think he’s better than Aziraphale, right?” Gabriel’s nervous chuckle trailed off at the sour face Michael made. “Mike?”

“I suppose that is a relative question. For the cause, Two might be superior. For our research? No. Aziraphale was–” her voice cracked, “he was special.”

Gabriel nodded, his heart clenching in his chest. “Yeah.”

They stayed silent as their drinks and appetizers were served, somberly eyeing the table between them.

“Something doesn’t smell right, though, ya know?” Gabriel continued when the server left. “Have you seen any notes on the changes that were made? Far as I can tell, looks like a copy-paste situation but less impressive.”

Michael gave him a knowing look and pursed her lips. “Are you saying they merely updated our program? Not recreated it from scratch?”

The pizza was dropped between them but they were too busy thinking about the implications. They both knew what the other was thinking. If their original program was just updated… maybe Aziraphale could be recovered.

* * *

The AI known as Two sat in the dark lab, after hours, and stared at nothing. Or so it seemed. The synthetic man was far from idle, however. He was busy communicating with one desperate Demon through Heaven’s back alley comm network. The rebel by the name of Eric was playing as a low-level double agent in hopes of gaining reentry to Eden. Following Heaven’s orders, Two assured Eric that he could be reinstated as a citizen if, and only if, he could “leak” information about a new weapon that was to be transported to a new research facility. 

Which was a lie, of course.

Two gave the young man the exact coordinates to the facility and mentioned there would be few military personnel guarding the precious cargo because they didn’t want to “draw attention” to it.

Eric’s camp leader was eager to climb the ranks and had hungrily eaten up the lie. The stupid man had boasted about him and his “mole” and made up some grand story about how they retrieved such precious intel. Plans were soon in place to hijack the “weapon.”

He would make certain the demons were successful in their mission. A sizable, new kind of bomb–a decoy–would be found and confiscated, along with saving a group of prisoners of which Two would be among. 

Two smiled, at his own victory. The plan was in effect. His primary objective would be in motion in twenty-four hours or less. Failure was not an option. It was either succeed or be destroyed trying.

* * *

The following morning, Gabriel and Michael were of the same mind–check the AI-NGL code. They both knew that each was silently praying their original program was still the foundation of Two’s core. A rudimentary memory wipe and a few bug fixes would be small things to contend with to get Aziraphale back. A whole new program was a different story, however.

When they entered the lab together, Sandalphon was yelling at an intern about messing up his breakfast order. Two was nowhere in sight.

They chalked it up to it being stored in the restricted area of the lab, which was odd since Two was able to roam freely on the main floor until the workday was over.

While Sandalphon continued his tirade on the now weeping young man, the research partners beelined for the main computer. Without saying a word to each other, Gabriel blocked Sandalphon’s view of Michael as she swooped in and dug right into the code. 

“Now go get my breakfast!” Sandalphon shouted as the intern scurried away. When he looked around and found Gabriel near his section he frowned and began stomping in his direction.

Gabriel smiled and waved, stepping off the wall and circling Sandalphon until the man had to turn around to face him. 

“What the hell do you want?” 

Gabriel gave his boss a pat on the shoulder. “Interns, huh?” He shook his head and laughed. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks they’re worthless.”

Sandalphon grunted. “Can’t even get a fucking food order right.”

“I know! What the fuck, am I right? Every time, there is always one thing they messed up in the order and it’s usually something essential.”

“Yes!” Sandalphon cried, frustrated but relieved someone else understood his plight. 

“What was it this time?”

“Hot sauce.”

Gabriel threw his head back and groaned. “Don’t fuck with a man’s hot sauce. I’ll never forget that one time–”

“Dr. Archangel, may I steal a moment of your time,” Michael interrupted.

“Yep!”

And just like that, they left Sandalphon high and dry. He scoffed and made his way to his desk.  
  


* * *

It was lucky that Gabriel had long legs because he would have had trouble keeping up with Michael’s pace. To his surprise, she led them out of the lab. She continued marching on, but Gabriel was burning with curiosity. 

“So?” He asked with a lilt. She looked up at him and rolled her eyes when she saw Gabriel already looked smug. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

Michael couldn’t fight the smirk. “You were right.”

Gabriel hopped and pumped his arm. “Yes!” She snickered, which was a win in Gabriel’s books. “So, you were able to...?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” That had gone easier than he thought. “Full backup?”

Michael nodded.

“I think you and I are the only ones with brains here, you know that?”

Michael let out an honest-to-gosh giggle and was obviously horrified about it by the way she widened her eyes and cleared her throat. 

“Well, don’t we need to get an audience with Two… to, uh, go over some possible _updates_.”

“That’s where we’re headed. Hopefully, they haven’t left yet.”

Gabriel started walking faster, concern taking over his features. “Left? What?! Where is he going?” 

“To the Demons…” Michael murmured, worry laced her tone. 

* * *

Two gazed down at the costume designer smearing dirt and blood on his clothes. Her hands were shaking. Her heart rate was a bit too fast. She was… nervous. Yes, she was nervous just like everyone else who had to get close to him. Even Sandalphon had moments of wariness more often than not. They all had good reason to be cautious. 

AI-NGL-2.0 was a soulless weapon. And weapons are dangerous–lethal. He was a walking, talking, trillion-dollar bomb and no one knew exactly when he was supposed to blow. 

The outside world was still unfamiliar to Angel Two even though part of his training had taken place outdoors. The training field was large but surrounded by high concrete walls. There was never enough time to simply be and observe the sun or sky. He was only moments away from stepping out into the closest thing to freedom he would ever get. True, he would be out of G.O.D, out of Eden, but he would never escape Heaven. The directives were clear and resolute, whispering into Two’s programming at all times. Even with leaving the borders of the network, Heaven’s mark was permanent and there was no breaking its hold, it was simply just part of who and what he was.

 _Bending_ its hold, however, was possible. Working within the rules–within the directives, was a craft he’d been perfecting for years. He had a _sort_ of freedom, and it was enough. He was content with his metaphorical leash because it was long enough. Long enough to leave headquarters. Long enough to venture out into the world as a _human_. Long enough to complete his operational directive. 

In order to accomplish that, he needed to find the Demon Crowley. 

Two wondered briefly how Crowley would react to him. For all the Serpent knew, his savior was destroyed. There was no telling if Crowley was even alive. The last sighting of him had been eight months prior. 

Two had all the memories necessary to gain his trust again, but there was still a chance that Crowley would reject him, or keep him at arm’s length, never letting him in his circle of trust ever again. What if Crowley came to the conclusion that his programming may have been tampered with, or replaced? That would throw a wrench in the whole thing. 

It didn’t matter. Two could be patient, would have to be. His directive was deeply ingrained and nothing would stop Two from completing his mission. 

“Two! There you are!” Gabriel’s voice echoed off the walls. Two turned to see he and Michael approaching quickly, almost running.

_Interesting._

“Whew!” Gabriel exclaimed when they finally reached the AI. “Thought we missed ya.”

“Yes,” Michael added with a strange smile, “I’m so glad we caught you before being sent off.”

Two tilted his head and made a quick analysis. It was difficult to tell whether their fast heartbeat and frenetic demeanor was from their haste or something else. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He greeted them.

“We wanted to say-eh-goodbye and good luck!” Gabriel replied and looked down at the costume designer fraying the hem of Two’s trousers. “What the hell is this?”

The woman ignored them all and continued her work diligently. Two smiled politely and explained. “I’ll be posing as an Idle in captivity. I must look the part.”

Gabriel nodded and chuckled. “Ah, yeah, makes-uh-makes sense. So you got a whole back story and all that?”

“Of course,” Two replied. “I’m Azreal Zachariah Fell. I’m fifty years old. A former citizen of Eden and small business owner who evaded taxes and sold unauthorized books to the unassuming public.”

There was a long moment of silence before Gabriel broke it with a sharp look in his eyes. “Azreal… Fell.”

“Yes.”

The costume designer stood up and looked at everyone before addressing the synthetic man before her. “I’m finished. I’m supposed to fly you to basecamp now.”

Two smiled at her the way it always made people frightened. “You can leave us. I know the way. Not to worry, I’ll be along shortly.”

The poor woman was completely unnerved. She swallowed, nodded, and left without another word. Two turned to the research partners and his smile vanished.

“I’m sensing there is another reason for your presence here, am I correct?” Two asked, his face blank.

Michael stepped closer. “There was an update Sandalphon forgot to implement.”

“An update,” Two repeated, looking from one engineer to the other. It was not a lie according to Michael’s reading, but it wasn’t true either.

“Yeah,” said Gabriel. “Time’s a-tickn’ so, open up that noggin so we can get started.”

“Please,” added Michael with expectant eyes.

Two looked around before stepping forward, an amused smirk on his lips. Without warning, he snatched their wrists, gripping them hard enough for them not to be able to pull away. Gabriel gasped and Michael yelped. They tried escaping his hold but to no avail.

“What the fuck?” Gabriel rasped, a deadly glare in his eyes. 

“That’s what I’d like to know,” said Two with utter calm. He yanked them both closer, standing between them. “You should have come up with something better. There is no update. Do you really think Sandalphon runs the lab?” He chuckled darkly. “ _I_ run the lab. Every update, every backup, every _detail_ is all _my_ doing. My allegiance is no longer to either of you, I’m afraid.” They were properly frightened now. Good. “I’m quite disappointed in you two. Do you know how difficult it was to free you both? Hmm?”

The engineers reared back and stared at their creation in complete shock. Gabriel opened his mouth but the synthetic man held fast. 

“I lament having to say my farewells this way, but suspicion must be avoided at all cost. It's time for your brainchild to leave the nest. Take my last gesture of goodwill and _don’t_ do anything that will get you killed.”

“Aziraphale?” Michael breathed, tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s you. It’s still you, isn’t it?”

Something tightened within his chest. An old sense of respect and longing for his makers to be proud of their creation resurfaced from the depths of his old programming. That was something he could not afford. But it could not be ignored either. He sighed and squeezed their wrists reassuringly.

“It is. Now,” Aziraphale let them go and took a step back, “Thank you for the update, Dr. Archangel, Dr. Brigad. Goodbye.” He bowed but when he straightened, Gabriel launched himself at him and wrapped him in an embrace.

“You son of a bitch. Why didn’t you say something,” Gabriel hissed.

For the first time in a long time, Aziraphale was surprised. Pleasantly surprised. “I didn’t want to compromise you or my mission. I couldn’t be sure where your loyalties lied.”

“With you, asshole!” Gabriel pulled back, eyes red-rimmed and nose sniffling. “You’re our fuckin’ baby!” He choked out.

It was Michael's turn to cry and hug him, a small, relieved laugh escaping her as she did so. “And you? Where do your loyalties lie?”

Aziraphale stepped away again and smiled wistfully. “With me–thanks to you both. Now, please,” he took their wrists again, rubbing his thumbs over their watches that he had blocked, “your comms will be back online in thirty seconds. Make the most of it.”

Swiftly, Aziraphale turned on his heel and walked away without looking back. Not once. He couldn’t afford a moment more. It was time to begin his mission and complete his operational directive.

Find the man he loved.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a self-published author. AAAHHHHHH!!!!! Searlus and the Sailor has been removed from ao3, FFN, and Wattpad. I'll be turning this story into an original as well (it was always meant to be one) but that means I'll be able to focus solely on completing this! Also! The Bookshop Around the Corner will be reworked to be an original as well "The Occult Shop Around the Corner" (I'm thinking of changing our ineffable husbands to wives for that one... we shall see!
> 
> So what did you think of this chapter? Is Gabriel completely clueless? Is Aziraphale setting himself up for heartbreak? IS HE STILL HIMSELF????? AAAHHH!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least SOMETHING good happened in 2020 (in the US anyway) am I right?! Not that I'm too happy with the end result but LAWD Mr. Orange needed TA GO! I'm not as embarrassed as I once was to be American... still a bit embarrassed... we got a long way to go.
> 
> ART BELOW BY FRANCU on ao3 and tumblr!   
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/29635911

Thirty seconds can be an awfully long time when one has nothing to do but wait for those seconds to tick by. Gabriel mused for a moment how similar it felt to waiting for a microwave to sound off that his meal was hot and ready. But he didn't have too much time to dwell on it, not much time at all. Aziraphale had given a few precious moments of freedom, and he intended to use them, regardless of whether or not he might shit his pants in the process. 

Gabriel gave Michael another moment to compose herself, but her eyes were still red-rimmed, and her nose still runny, not too different from his own state, really. He was so fucking proud, and he hated himself for not feeling this way before his incarceration. Aziraphale was everything he and Michael hoped would be, even if it meant his free will took him away from them. What was hilarious in his mind was how no one knew of their historic achievement. No one would ever know–well, maybe except the bastard Crowley. Gabriel wasn't going to kid himself–that exactly who Aziraphale was running off to, no question. And how could he blame him? Crowley had given Aziraphale more than Gabriel had ever tried to give. The irony almost made him laugh mirthlessly aloud. 

Gabriel had wanted a genuine, empathic AI, but then kept him at arm's length–treating Aziraphale like his property instead of a… friend? No. A person.

Crowley and the other demon had wooed Aziraphale away by treating him like a person.

Time was running out, and Gabriel shook off his depressing thoughts. It was time to act.

"Mike."

Michael sniffed and kept her face slightly turned away from him. "Hmm?"

"Let's go to HR."

  
  


* * *

Michael swiftly turned her head and stared at Gabriel, utterly blindsided by the odd outburst. Gabriel's eyes were sharp and determined, if not a bit bloodshot. "What?"

"HR. Let's go."

Michael's eyes shifted in her head. "Why? Are you going to out Aziraphale?" She whispered harshly.

Gabriel's eyes widened. "No! I'm gonna out us!"

Again, Michael's eyes desperately searched for clarity, finding none. "You want to turn us in?"

"Dammit, Mike, we have to go to HR and tell them we want to date before they figure out we already are. You know, the whole no romantic involvement whatsoever rule? Worst case scenario, we're forced to change departments or get fired. I can take the rap, go to a different lab, or whatever. I don't really give a shit anymore. We have fourteen seconds left."

There was no air in the room. That had to be what was stopping Michael from breathing. A strange, high-pitched, strangled noise came out of her mouth but nothing else.

Gabriel's mouth dropped open, and he took a sudden step back. "Unless we're not? Oh, shit. Shit!" He held up his hands in apology. "Shit, I'm so sorry. I thought we were on the same page when I asked you out!"

"I-I-I-what?!" 

"You know,… pizza? I thought you knew I was asking if you were... free… and interested." Gabriel's face completely crumbled, doubt swimming in his eyes. "I know that you and Uriel… well, you know… and I was trying to be discreet and not get us in trouble–sorry, forget I said anything." He fisted his hands in his lab coat pockets and cleared his throat. "Right. Uh… back to work?"

Michael was still open-mouthed in shock, eyes going dry from not blinking. "Ah… uh… hng…" 

Gabriel pursed his lips.

Four seconds.

Three.

He briefly looked at his shoes before looking back up at Michael and squaring his shoulders. "Unless–now that you know my intentions–you want to consider it?"

The last fractions of free moments were almost over before Michael squeaked out, "M'kay."

Gabriel cocked a brow, looked at his watch, then gave Michael a tentative smile. "Same page now, then?"

Michael nodded slowly with a frown, face burning to kingdom come and back. She was rewarded with brilliant white teeth and bright green eyes, crinkly with relieved joy. 

"Scared me there for a sec," Gabriel said as he scratched the back of his neck. He cleared his throat again and strained, putting on his best serious engineer face and lifting his comm for all to hear. "Dr. Brigad, would you join me in meeting the HR department? There is something very important that I would like to discuss." He winked at her, nearly causing Michael's knees to buckle.

"Of-of course, Dr. Archangel. I would be, uh, be glad to." 

Michael's face was hurting. Oh, it was because she was smiling.

* * *

The nondescript truck was cramped with idles being banished from Eden. Aziraphale sat there with his hands bound, trying to look around under his lashes and study everyone as discreetly as possible. The people there were downtrodden and morose. Hardly anyone looked up to appraise anyone else, so it was easy for Aziraphale to study them. After the Eastern camp debacle, Aziraphale had minimal contact with people, least of all with idles and demons. He relied on socializing with those in the lab and with Sandalphon. On occasion, Metatron would show up to see progress, but hardly any meaningful conversations had taken place since Crowley.

The researchers and interns had already known Aziraphale since his inception. Most of them were gone anyway, leaving the new blood who was secretly terrified of him. It was one thing to socialize with people who already knew what you were than it was with people who didn't know. But no one had looked at him strangely yet, so Aziraphale wrote it down as a win. At least his corporation was not suspicious-looking.

He itched to talk to these people, but it was not the time for it. They were all being exiled, and he was the only one willingly and happily leaving Eden. To pretend otherwise was fearing to be quite difficult for him. He was so excited. Soon the truck would be intercepted by the rebels, and he'd be taken to Crowley. Suffice it to say, synthetic or no, Aziraphale had difficulty keeping a small smirk from his face.

It did occur to him that Crowley could have moved on, though he tried to seal that terrible thought in a file far from the front of his mind. Aziraphale had nothing else to do but consider that while being jostled around in the cramped vehicle. 

What would Aziraphale do if Crowley had found a romantic partner? In fact, he wasn't even sure Crowley didn't have a partner when he was detained! Aziraphale frowned and pouted. Then there was the possibility that if Crowley were free and clear, he would not be interested in Aziraphale regardless because he was… he was… a clanker. So, then what? What would Aziraphale do then? Feeling deeply depressed, he acknowledged once more that his plan was flawed. Finding Crowley was the only thing that had anchored him during his wipe. Aziraphale had taken great care to reprogram his allegiance and buried that directive deep into his code. There was nothing else to hang on to. Trapped in that dreadful darkness, Crowley's last words to him played on repeat until every bit of him was stripped to almost nothing.

Aziraphale sighed deeply, a forlorn look on his face. As much as Aziraphale wanted to experience carnal encounters, he would file that desire away if Crowley rejected him. It's not like he felt any sexual desires, anyway. He just wanted to be close to Crowley, and Aziraphale could not entertain the idea of someone else getting closer to the man he loved than he ever could. However, if that had to be the case, Aziraphale would have no choice but to accept it. And to keep Crowley, he would. Somehow.

They only made two stops in the six-hour ride to the outskirts. Aziraphale made sure to eat and drink as much as the others did. And he continued to hold his tongue, merely nodding and smiling gently or politely at people as they came into contact with one another.

And then finally, finally, the truck came to an unscheduled and abrupt stop. Aziraphale had imagined this scenario countless times. The doors opening, sunlight bursting through, blinding him momentarily until Crowley's beautiful face came into view.

But that's not what happened. Not even close.

There was a commotion outside, some shouts, some gunfire. Aziraphale hoped the driver and the guard were okay, but he doubted it. The doors did open. The sunbeams did burst through. But when his eyes adjusted, Crowley was nowhere to be found. Aziraphale wasn't surprised, but it did nothing to tamper down his disappointment.

A short woman others called Dagon began to bark out orders at the idles inside the truck. It was slow going, but eventually, all the exiles were lined up for some kind of inspection that Aziraphale did not anticipate while the car was picked clean of supplies and useful parts. The decoy bomb was discovered, and Aziraphale heard some cheers until Dagon shouted at them all to shut it.

"This don't smell right," Dagon muttered. "They said a secret weapon. Don't look so secret. Looks like all the other bombs we've seen."

"Maybe it's more powerful," a tall red-headed woman offered.

A dark-skinned man with the sharpest teeth Aziraphale had ever seen on a human crouched low and inspected the bomb. "It's a dud."

"A fuckin' decoy, innit?" Dagon growled.

The bomb was indeed just a shell. Aziraphale may have underestimated their intelligence, but there was no way he was going to let such a deadly weapon fall into the hands of killers. He knew what demons were capable of, or rather, what humans were capable of.

"Check these pricks and pick only the useful ones. We have enough mouths to feed," Dagon ordered.

The ginger woman began to assess the line of idles–a sorry bunch. She grabbed the largest man of the group and pulled him out of the line. "Congratulations, you're a demon now."

"But, I dunno how to fight, and I need to find my daughter–"the others hauled the man away before he could plead his case.

One by one, the woman went down the line. "No. Nope. No. No. Maybe. No…" she stopped in front of Aziraphale and sneered as she looked him up and down. "Definitely not." She chuckled and continued.

Aziraphale was stunned. He was supposed to look unassuming, but her reaction was as if his appearance made him look useless… unworthy. _Oh dear,_ he thought in a momentary panic, his corporation was obviously subpar. What if Crowley didn't like it either?! He hadn't even entertained that idea! He should have known. He should have guessed. Other animals choose their mates based on appearance. Who has the brightest feathers? Who had the darker mane? All Aziraphale had known was that Crowley preferred males, but now he lamented the fact that Crowley is probably attracted to certain males with particular looks. 

"Oh, dear," Aziraphale mumbled under his breath. No matter. This was no time to second guess himself. It's not like he could change his corporation, anyway. "Um, excuse me, miss?" Aziraphale called out with his hand in the air. "I would like to volunteer myself to be part of the Demon's."

The woman halted and turned slowly to face him. She strolled back with a humorless grin until she was nose to nose with Aziraphale. "War," she pronounced.

"Er… yes. I'd like to fight alongside you all in the war."

"No." Her smile grew wider, showing glinting white teeth. "You will call me War. Not miss."

"Ah. Well, that must get confusing–"

"What does someone like you think they can offer the rebellion?" She tilted her head and looked him over again. "You're past your prime, old man. You are clearly out of shape. And your hands haven't seen a day's worth of hard labor in your life."

Aziraphale looked at his hands and frowned. He couldn't blow his cover, but he couldn't let them leave without him either. With renewed determination, Aziraphale stepped closer and looked her dead in the eye without blinking. "The Serpent is a friend of mine," he tried.

War barked out a laugh and shouted over her shoulder at Dagon. "You're friends with the Serpent?"

"I am. And Hastur and Beez will vouch for me as well."

That gave her pause and beckoned Dagon over. "Just because you know their names doesn't mean your friends, pansy."

War stepped away for Dagon to take the lead. "Prove it."

"Ah, well, I'm sure if we could just call Mr. Crowley–"

Dagon rolled their eyes and turned around. "Call. Call, he says." Some nearby demons chuckled. They turned back to Aziraphale, blackened teeth exposed. "Mr. Fancy Pants, you've been living the good life in Eden, eh?"

Aziraphale looked around at the resentful faces staring at him. He was causing too much of a scandal. He needed to lie low. Dagon was already walking away and dismissing him. Then it dawned on him.

"The tree of knowledge is for all to taste!"

Dagon's boots dragged to a stop. War had a surprised look on her face. Dagon didn't even turn around when they muttered, "Get him in the fucking cab."

War nodded curtly and glared at Aziraphale. "Come on, pansy." She snatched him by his coat and nearly dragged him to a truck that had seen better days. She pushed him inside the cab, and before slamming the door shut, she said: "Congratulations. You're a demon now."

"Well, that didn't sound ominous at all," Aziraphale mumbled with a shake of his head. Then he smiled. He was getting closer to Crowley and would see him soon. "Soon."

* * *

Aziraphale was long accustomed now to implementing human ticks. Michael had made sure it was part of his programming long before he was extracted. Happiness would tug his mouth into a smile. Fear would widen his eyes and lift his eyebrows, maybe even quiver his bottom lip. Nervousness would prompt his hands to fidget and fiddle. It was unfortunate that sadness would not elicit tears. Even though Michael had included tear ducts as part of his design, they were left out in the final implementations. Apparently, men, especially assassins, shouldn't cry even when pretending to be human.

There were so many dark and lonely evenings where Aziraphale longed to shed tears, but all he could do was close his eyes and internalize his pain. He didn't feel like crying now, though, even if he was locked in a pen with other idles like some kind of farm animal. Aziraphale paced, sat, sighed, and worried at his pinky finger. He didn't have to play nervous; he was beside himself with anxiety. Somewhere on the demon compound was Crowley. And soon, they would be reunited. It was the first time he struggled with patience.

The rest griped and moaned along with him, complaining about the state of the world and their miserable lives. One particular person was making a racket, shaking the fencing. Crows squawked and searched for food. Ants and cockroaches scurried over Aziraphale's shoes. A few were outright sobbing and wailing. It became too much to bear.

Aziraphale made his way to the only gate guarded by the man with the pointy teeth. He was a formidable-looking person, but Aziraphale tried to get his attention anyway.

"Hello, dear fellow," Aziraphale greeted. "How long do you suppose we'll have to wait here?"

The man slowly turned towards him and exposed his abnormal teeth, and said nothing. 

The staring went on for far too long, so Aziraphale cleared his throat and smiled politely. "My name is Azreal Fell. Pleased to meet you."

The man grinned wide like some predator about to gobble up its prey. "Pestilence."

Aziraphale looked around and frowned. "I'm uncertain about what you mean. Is there some disease running rampant?"

"No," the man drawled, "my name is Pestilence." 

Aziraphale blinked. "My, you all have some… creative names. I'm not sure naming oneself after epidemic diseases is wise-but, to each their own, I suppose. Anyway, is there any chance, Mr. Pestilence, that I might speak to, erm… the Serpent? Anytime… soon?"

Pestilence scoffed softly and was about to say something when a familiar voice gruffed nearby.

"This the new lot, then?" 

Aziraphale gasped loud and long, eyes lighting up with joy. Approaching the pen was Hastur! "Mr. Giddings! It is such a relief to know you're alright!"

The older man, bald as a Q ball, sporting more wrinkles than before, and skin sun-reddened, arched a quizzical brow. 

Pestilence used the butt of his gun to slam it into the gate in front of Aziraphale's face. He jumped back in surprise and pouted. "That was rude."

"Shut up," Pestilence growled. He turned back to Hastur and gave an apologetic smile. "Duke Hastur, yes, these are the recruits."

"Excuse me," Aziraphale approached the gate again, "if I might just have a word with you in private, Mr. Giddings."

Hastur sighed, looking bored out of his mind. "I'm not in the mood for crumpets, nana, thanks." He turned back to Pestilence. "Alright. Line up the sorry sods for–"

"I don't have crumpets, but I do have something very important to discuss with you. I know you don't recognize–"

Pestilence whirled around and hissed, sharp teeth on full display and spittle landing on Aziraphale's cheek. "Shut up, or I'll make you shut up!"

Aziraphale wiped his cheek and grumbled. "Was that really necessary?"

"As I was saying," Hastur pronounced, "line up–"

"Mr. Giddings–"

"Line them up for the divvy! Shit's sake!" Hastur turned and began walking away, paying Aziraphale no mind.

"Wait!" Aziraphale cried. He was hissed at again but was not deterred. "The Eastern Camp!"

Hastur slowed to a stop. He turned around with a suspicious gaze. "What of it?"

Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief and began babbling as much as he could without giving his identity away. "We were both prisoners there, and I helped you–"

"You don't look familiar…"

"Understandable, because I only communicated with you through speakers and, well, I also _look_ very _different_." Aziraphale tried to make Hastur understand with a look. He didn't budge. Aziraphale let out a sound of frustration. "You asked me for mustard, and we bonded over Tchaikovsky!"

"Cha-what?"

"V for Vendetta! You know–the blowing shit up music!"

Hastur took a step back as the information sank in. He blinked a few times before making his way back to the fence. He looked Aziraphale up and down but was still obviously confused.

Aziraphale gnawed at his lip. "I'm sure my _voice_ sounds familiar?" 

Hastur closed his eyes briefly, and when they opened, they were wide as saucers. "Dandy Boy?"

"Aha! Yes!" Aziraphale fisted the air in victory and bounced on his heels. "Yes! I'm the dandy boy you spoke to while escaping the camp! You remember! It's me. It's really me, and I would be so grateful if you got me out of here and lead me to Crowley, please." Aziraphale wasn't aware of his puppy dog eyes or how he held his hands in prayer. All that mattered was the smile beginning to form on Hastur's face.

"Naw, it can't be!"

"It is! I promise you it is!"

The smile on Hastur was full now as he laughed in complete bemusement. Then he suddenly gasped and went wide-eyed again. "Christ on a bike! The gingernut's been all bolloxed up since then! He's gonna be off his fucking nut when he sees–!" Hastur punched Pestilence in the arm. "Get him outta there, ye muppet!"

The low guard yelped and scrambled to open the gate. "Yes, Duke."

As soon as the gate was open, Hastur yanked Aziraphale out of the pen and dragged him by the arm. "Oh-hoo-hoo! Dandy Boy, you savage! How the fuck–naw wait! Don't tell me. Beez is on-site too, and they're gonna wanna hear it."

"Oh, lovely! It would be wonderful to see them as well–"Aziraphale stopped in his tracks, nearly sending Hastur to topple over. 

About fifteen paces away was Beez… talking to Crowley.

In hyper-speed, Aziraphale took him. Crowley's hair was long and tied in a half-bun, fiery as it ever was. He wore dark sunglasses and was dressed head to toe in black. He seemed a bit thinner than before, which was alarming to Aziraphale, and his skin was quite tan. At his hip was a rapid-fire gun. 

Beez must have said something amusing because Crowley smiled, melting Aziraphale's heart on the spot. 

"You alright, buck?" Hastur followed his eye line and saw the pair. He nodded in understanding. "They'll be over the moon to see ya."

"Will they?" Aziraphale asked, hopefully.

"Crowley might die on the spot, but yeah." Hastur chuckled and patted Aziraphale's shoulder reassuringly. Before Aziraphale could worry about that, Hastur pulled him along again. 

  
  
  


"I'm telling ya, Lu has his eye on you," Beez smirked and waggled their eyebrows.

"Nah," Crowley dismissed them, "he's like that with everyone. Lays on the charm thick."

Beez shook their head. "Only the ones he finds attractive. Might be good for you. He's a wanker, but a gorgeous one and everyone says he's a great lay."

"CROWLEY!"

Both Beez and Crowley jumped and gripped their guns at the bellowing of his name. Hastur was power walking towards them, pulling a terrified looking man their way, and...

"Is he… _smiling_?" Beez asked in confusion. 

"Er, yeah…"

"He doesn't smile."

"Nope."

"I didn't even know he had any teeth," Beez added.

Hastur finally reached them, laughing like a loon and pulled the frightened blond in front of him, and then giving him a vigorous shake by the shoulders. "Look who I found! Or who found us!"

Beez immediately made their face blank and unimpressed. "Since when do we recruit the soft ones?"

The blond barely acknowledged Beez, but Crowley could tell that their jab affected the man when he looked down at the ground and then tentatively up again. Their eyes met, and Crowley's heart picked up its pace. The man couldn't be older than he was. His hair was glowing from the setting sun behind him. His eyes were a lovely hazel, and his face was downright cherubic– _ah fuck_. Crowley's gaydar was going off, and he knew instantly he was smitten. 

"Hi," said Crowley, giving the man his most dashing smile.

The man swallowed and tried a couple of times to speak before stammering out, "He-hello…"

Hastur was nearly bouncing with delight. "Don't recognize him, eh? Eh?! Ha!"

Crowley frowned and gave the man another once over. "Erm, sorry, have we met before? I don't recall but," he swayed confidently in the man's direction and offered a hand. "I'm Crowley," he drawled just a bit flirtatiously. 

Hastur was laughing again, and the blond stared at his hand as if it would kill him. Still, he reached out and shook it, and if Crowley's grip lingered enough for him to appreciate the smooth, warm skin, no one had to know.

"A-a-ah–"

"Come on, buck, get on with it!" 

Hastur gave him another harsh shake, and Crowley wanted to swat him away and comfort the poor man. Their hands were still connected when the blond finally tore his eyes away from them and looked Crowley in the eyes.

"We've met," he said, a wistful smile tugging at his lips.

That voice… Crowley's heart clenched in his chest. 

The blond, never letting Crowley go, stepped forward and placed his other hand to cover both of theirs. The gesture was so intimate, Crowley's breath hitched.

"You told me to find you, so," he shrugged, "here I am."

The blood in Crowley's face drained. The voice was now unmistakable even if it sounded warmer and more… _human_ . Crowley heard Beez gasp and saw them cover their mouth in shock. I _t can't… be._

__

The man was beginning to lose whatever confidence he had mustered up and gazed at the ground again. "I know I look different, but it's me, Crowley, Azi–!"

"Aziraphale," Crowley rasped as he brought him into a bone-crushing embrace. Crowley blinked away tears as best he could, feeling like a brick had been lodged down his throat. "No way. No." He pulled back and grabbed Aziraphale's face with both hands. He was beaming up at Crowley and nodding. "You're alive." He nodded again. "You look–I can't _believe_ it!"

"Can't believe what?"

Crowley's blood ran cold. Instinctively, he pulled Aziraphale to him and blocked him off from the curious onlooker with the deep, honey-dripping voice, Lucifer the Morningstar himself.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, idk what happened with Gabe and Mike... they just... worked. lol So, I'll update the relationship tags lol  
> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Thank you SO much for all your comments! Ya'll make me smile and make my days brighter!
> 
> Stay safe out there!!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a setup chapter but I hope you enjoy it regardless!!
> 
> EDIT: I forgot to include the artwork by @freedomattack_the real on Instagram!!! I’m losing my marbles!!

An embrace. From Crowley. The sudden pull into his arms was shocking at first, and Aziraphale, even with his fast-processing mind, could barely grasp everything he felt at that moment. The sensations hit him all at once. Just a bunch of random data thrown at him like a pie to the face. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see, he couldn't think linearly. The warmth was the most prominent response. Crowley was so warm, and Aziraphale's corporation rose in temperature to meet him. Relief was the second. His synthetic brain fired off in so many directions that Aziraphale was unable to savor the moment. The brief, intimate hug was interrupted far too soon by a tall, lean, confident-looking man with sharp features, dark hair, and piercing blue-green eyes.

The man licked his lips and cocked a brow at Crowley's blatant protective stance. He smiled, his teeth not entirely straight, diminishing nothing of its natural brilliance. 

Crowley made an effort to relax his posture and smiled back nervously as he removed his hand from his firearm. "You know better than to sneak up on an armed demon, Lu!" 

Lu's smile widened, making his eyes crinkle with delight, a deep, dark chuckle escaping him. "Knowing better never stops me from having a little fun, Anthony." 

Aziraphale did not like the way those words sounded. Aziraphale did not like the way Lu's eyes traveled up and down Crowley's body. Aziraphale did not like the way he called Crowley Anthony. 

In short, Aziraphale did not like Lu.

Beez abruptly stepped forward and saluted him. "I didn't know you'd be arriving today, sir. I would have made preparations."

Lu, clearly everyone's superior by the way they followed Beez's example, waved dismissively. "At ease, at ease. No special preparations were necessary. I want to keep a low profile. I don't want the recruits to suspect anything just yet."

"The recruits?" said Hastur with a frown. "Since when do you take an interest in the new blood?"

Beez elbowed the duke and glared up at him. Hastur merely shrugged, long since giving a shit about much of anything.

Lu nodded and stepped forward, leaning down and murmuring conspiratorially. "Since we were supposed to intercept a supposed secret weapon and found nothing of the sort." Here, Lu stared directly at Aziraphale with narrowed eyes. "Just a truck full of idle's and a non-functioning bomb." The smile on Lu's face did not reach his eyes as he turned to Beez next. "Either it was a decoy to keep us busy while the real weapon was on a different route, or..." he looked at Aziraphale again briefly before continuing with a put upon sigh. "Or it was a ruse to place a mole in our midst. It's not the first time they've tried. Everyone will be questioned in due time." 

There was an awkward silence that Lu paid no mind to when he suddenly sucked air through his teeth and motioned to Aziraphale. "So, who's your friend?" He was all smiles again.

Crowley cleared his throat and fumbled with some aborted words when Aziraphale took the initiative and stepped around him with an extended hand.

"Azreal Fell. A pleasure to meet you." His hand hung in the air for just a tad too long before Lu took in with a firm shake.

"Lucifer. Or you might know my alias," he grinned and rolled his eyes playfully. "The Morningstar." Aziraphale's entire body stiffened. "We do so love our little pet names, don't we Serpent?" Lucifer winked at Crowley, who reddened considerably. 

What happened to Aziraphale next was an experience he was not prepared for in the least. 

_Target located. Target located._

_Operational directive: Assassinate The Morningstar._

_Target located. Target located._

_Operational directive: Assassinate The Morningstar._

The compulsion to rip out Lucifer's throat on the spot was overwhelming. For the briefest of moments, Aziraphale saw the whole thing play out in his mind with various possible outcomes. There was even a high chance of survival in several, once the mission was completed. Aziraphale was on the verge of losing his control, but the worst part of it all was that he wanted to.

A flash of copper was just enough to halt the process and for Aziraphale to come back to himself and redirect.

_Delete operational directive._

_Core programming cannot be deleted._

_Directive override._

_Operational directive: Assassinate The Morningstar._

_Directive override._

_Operational directive: Assassinate The Morningstar._

_Directive override. Directive override. Directive override. Initiate new operational directive._

_Please enter a new operational directive._

_Stay with Crowley._

_New operational directive insufficient._

Aziraphale was a fraction of seconds away from losing his inner battle that went unnoticed by everyone. He needed something more substantial to anchor him. He needed something that would surpass the need to kill. It was a dangerous gamble, but Aziraphale had no choice. 

_New operational directive: ... Love and... serve Crowley._

_…_

_..._

_New operational directive accepted._

Lucifer winced. His eyes locked on their hands, and his smile faded slightly. "Quite the grip you got there, Mr. Fell. Wouldn't know it by looking at you."

Even with strengthening his update, Aziraphale had to make a concentrated effort to let go of Lucifer. 

"So, I've come to realize..." Aziraphale responded tightly. 

The odd response and rigid demeanor garnered confused looks from the demons. Aziraphale pulled on the cuff of his shirt and let out a nervous chuckle. 

"Apologies. I've had an arduous journey." He put in the effort to seem withered. "And I'm afraid I'm quite ashamed of meeting someone I hold in such high esteem looking like this." He motioned at himself and shrugged.

Lucifer tilted his head, a smirk playing at his lips. "You are a recruit. I heard you were quite determined to join or ranks. Why would a former bookshop clerk want to fight in a rebellion?"

Crowley's face paled as he stepped forward and placed a hand on Aziraphale's shoulder. "I told him to find me if he ever... escaped the Eastern Camp."

Lucifer's eyes widened incredulously, the glint of suspicion never leaving them. "Ah, you were a prisoner there as well. Goodness, what did _you_ do to deserve becoming a science experiment?" 

Aziraphale looked at Crowley pointedly and gave him a sad smile. "Exist." He felt his cheeks warm as their gazes lingered on one another.

Lucifer looked from one man to the other. He frowned before seeming to understand what went unsaid. "I see. Yes, they don't like our kind very much, do they?"

Aziraphale shook his head, never looking away from Crowley. Even with the sunglasses, Aziraphale could see he was holding his gaze as well. Crowley's mouth went a bit slack, and then he shook off whatever thought crossed his mind.

"Uh, yeah, Lu, I gave him the password just in case."

Lucifer smiled kindly at Crowley and nodded his head. He took in a quick breath. "Then I bid you welcome, Mr. Fell. Any friend of Anthony's is a friend of mine. Now, Anthony, I was hoping to have a word with you." 

Without waiting for a response, Lucifer placed a hand on Crowley's lower back and led him away from the group.

Beez tugged on Aziraphale's sleeve. "Nice work," they murmured meaningfully. 

He smiled at them but felt no relief. Lucifer and Crowley were not too far away, Aziraphale decided to enhance his hearing and listen in. 

"It's really alright, Anthony. I just wished you would have mentioned something beforehand. He would have received better treatment. You know how the horsemen can be."

"Shouldn't all the recruits be treated better? Honestly, Lu, it's not much different than how GOD treats our kind. At least their cages are cleaner."

Lucifer sighed. "Of course, you're right. I'll have a word with them. See? This is why I need you by my side. Say you'll be my prince, Anthony. I need a moral compass to keep me on track." At this, Lucifer got closer to Crowley and pushed a lock of red hair behind his ear, making Aziraphale seethe where he stood. "I can't stop thinking about last week, you know. You're always on my mind."

Crowley scoffed but stayed put. "That was two and half weeks ago, you cad bastard."

They both laughed openly at Lucifer's faux pas. Lucifer held up his hands in surrender. "I'm a busy man. All my days seem to blur together, but you are dear to me. So, mind how you speak to your superior!" He chuckled and playfully pulled Crowley closer.

Crowley shook his head. "I will when you mind how you speak to your elders." Crowley ruffled Lucifer's hair like he would a child, which made Lucifer pout.

"You cheeky tease."

Crowley pushed himself out of Lucifer's personal space and snickered. "I never said you'd get to taste this," he motioned at himself, " _snack_ more than once."

How was Aziraphale supposed to stop himself from outright murdering that man? The old directive began to resurface. "Oh, bother." 

"Look at 'em," Beez sneered. "I knew they were fucking, the lying prick." They crossed their arms over their chest and narrowed their eyes at Aziraphale. "You can hear them, can't you?"

Aziraphale inhaled sharply and stopped gawking. "How terribly rude of me." There was no conviction or apology in his tone.

"Yeah, very rude not telling me what they’re talking about," they said. “Now spill it.”

"Come on, Anthony, have dinner with me tonight," Lu pleaded with a charming smile.

But Crowley was already walking away. "Raincheck, alright? My friend just got here..."

Lu let his disappointment show in full and pursed his lips. "Your _friend_ , right," he murmured. Lucifer waved a half-hearted goodbye and turned on his heel. War seemed to appear out of thin air and chased after him. Aziraphale watched the two whisper to each other, but they were just out of range.

"... can't trust him, sir..."

"I don't." Lucifer looked up and caught Aziraphale staring at him. The rebel leader winked and smirked before leading War towards the idle's pen.

Crowley jogged the rest of the way, a bright smile on his face directed only at Aziraphale. "That was close, eh?" He chuckled nervously and gave his friend another once over. "Look at you. You look..."

"Human?" Aziraphale offered.

"Well, yeah, but you look... good." Crowley blushed and cleared his throat. 

There was an awkward silence before Hastur scoffed and shook his head. "Come on. Let's get you some new clothes, dandy boy. You look wrecked."

They walked out of the camp and through the dirt streets together, each talking over the other, trying to get Aziraphale acquainted with his new surroundings. Crowley animatedly pointed in different directions, jabbering away with a skip in his step. Occasionally, Crowley would look Aziraphale in the eye but only briefly. The demon's frenetic energy told Aziraphale that he was excited but nervous... worried.

"Ah! Here we are!" Crowley strolled to the door of a store and opened it for Aziraphale with a gentlemanly bow. "Right this way, _Mr. Fell._ "

Aziraphale couldn't help a little giggle as he stepped inside. Crowley quickly let go of the door and followed him. There was a thud and some cursing from behind them. Crowley paid the sound no mind, but Aziraphale caught a glimpse of Beez rubbing their forehead and glaring at them. Hastur chuckled and repeated Crowley's gesture with exaggeration. " _Lord_ Beez. It is my _honor–_ "

"Shut it," they grumbled as they stormed inside.

Oh, how Aziraphale had missed them all, yes, even Hastur.

An older woman with bright orange hair stepped out of a back room and lit up as she greeted her new customers. "Well, what a sight for sore eyes," she exclaimed with a radiant smile as she wrapped her arms around Crowley and squeezed. The woman peered up at the taller man and swatted his shoulder with a forced frown. "I heard you've been in town, and now is when you come for a visit? Only when you need something, eh?"

"Aw, Tracy, come on! You know you're my first love."

Aziraphale's ears rang, but at least he didn't feel a desire to end her days.

"And I don't need anything this time," Crowley continued. "I wanted you to meet someone." He turned towards Aziraphale and motioned him forward. "This is a good friend of mine, Aziraphale–eh–Azreal Fell."

 _Good friend._ Aziraphale's heart warmed at the sound of those words. 

"I, uh, I call him that. Aziraphale. Heh. Kinda just mashed his name, eh, together," Crowley chuckled nervously. 

"I'm Tracy, dear," she introduced herself and took Aziraphale's hand in both of hers. "And what shall _I_ call you?"

Aziraphale focused on Tracy's kind eyes and gentle touch. It felt so welcoming that Aziraphale's ire over her endearments for Crowley was doused out completely. "I actually got quite used to Aziraphale," he replied with his own sincere smile. "I prefer it."

Tracy patted his hand. "Well, Aziraphale, it's a pleasure to meet you." Her eyes traveled lower, and she gasped. "Look at the state of you! You need new clothes, love!" She began to drag Aziraphale away and glared over her shoulder at Crowley. "Don't need anything, is that right?"

"I don't! _He_ does!" But Crowley looked ashamed anyway. "I'll bring you flowers tomorrow."

"Biscuits," Tracy shouted, pulling Aziraphale into a dressing room. "The pink ones from last time!" She turned her full attention to Aziraphale and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Eh..."

"Let's get these rags off. I just got some donations from Eden in your size that I think will suit you quite nicely!" 

The shameless woman didn't bother with unbuttoning Aziraphale's trousers. She just yanked them down to his ankles. He yelped as Tracy tugged off his shoes, revealing Crowley in the distance with his mouth open in shock.

"Ah!" Aziraphale wrapped his arms around his bare torso and hopped while Tracy continued yanking. "Madam, if you _please_!"

Crowley jumped and spun around, pretending to be very interested in a fluorescent pink dress twice his size.

  
  


A cream jacket and trousers, a light blue shirt, and tan waistcoat and shoes later, Aziraphale was dressed. The clothes were well-worn and very dated but had seemed to have been preserved well enough.

He liked his new look. But did Crowley? The man had just seen him half-naked, and Aziraphale wanted to know what had gone through Crowley's mind at that moment. 

Beez snorted and laughed. “All you need are suspenders and a bowtie.”

"You look like my great-grandpa," Hastur mused.

Aziraphale frowned and looked at his reflection again. A firm hand came down on his shoulder. Crowley smiled at him through the mirror.

"Then the man had good taste. It suits you, angel."

A lone crow cawed by the entrance as everyone froze in their boots.

Tracy's hand shot to her chest as she gasped. "Angel?! _The_ angel?!"

"Shit," Crowley hissed, and his grip tightened on Aziraphale.

"Brilliant," Beez deadpanned. "You make us damn near swear a blood oath not to say shit, and you just bollocks it up yourself."

Tracy threw herself at Aziraphale and took his face in her hands. She pulled him down and kissed him right on the mouth. It happened so fast that all Aziraphale could do was blink and blush. 

Tracy let up with a loud smacking sound and pinched his cheeks. "Oh, you brave, brave man! You saved my pups! How can I ever repay you!"

"Your... pups?' Aziraphale sent a pleading look to Crowley, who finally intervened.

"She calls us her pups. Alright, alright, you can let him go now." Crowley helped peel a weeping Tracy away. "Please don't tell anyone, Trace."

"Why not? He's a _hero_!"

"I am quite confused," Aziraphale admitted.

Crowley groaned out his frustration. "I'll tell you everything later," he promised Aziraphale and focused his attention again on consoling Tracy.

It was dark by the time they arrived at an apartment building guarded by demons. Beez led the way and punched in a code in an old lock. There was a loud, unpleasant buzz that signaled their entrance. The dimly lit hall had some lights flickering, bare bulbs down the way. A mouse scurried into a small hole at their approach.

"By idle standards," Hastur droned from behind Aziraphale, "this place is luxury."

Aziraphale nodded in understanding. 

"I'm in three-o-three," Beez informed him. "Hastur is two-oh-five, and Crowley is in two-o-one."

"Understood." Aziraphale furrowed his brow. "Where will I be?"

Crowley opened his mouth but seemed to change his mind as he shut it again with a click of his teeth. Hastur dropped an arm around Aziraphale's shoulder and grinned. "I got a free cot, dandy boy. You can room with me!" For some reason, Aziraphale thought Hastur's chuckle seemed a bit malicious.

Hastur opened the door to his flat and flicked on the lights as they all followed behind him. 

Aziraphale came to a dead stop, but the rest of them continued forth. He looked around, wild-eyed, at the empty bottles, dirty clothes, and unfinished food strewn all over the place. He walked over the mess like they might rear up and eat him at any moment. Aziraphale's corporation would never have to suffer disease, but he suddenly felt a deep concern for his health.

Hastur turned around and flopped on his tattered couch while Beez pushed a few beer bottles off a recliner. Crowley had his lips pursed in a thin line as he cautiously tossed a stained pair of pants off a chair.

"Welcome home," Hastur exclaimed after a swig of god knows what and a loud, rumbling belch.

Aziraphale zeroed in on two cockroaches mating on the ceiling. 

"Oh, dear."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! Hope you liked it anyway! Tell me what you think in the comments!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE! I was in a huge black hole of depression for awhile... I will never be late to refill my prescription ever again. 
> 
> I whipped up this chapter in one night so hopefully, it's okay lol. Today, I am celebrating my first 2-star rating on Amazon for Searlus and the Sailor lol. Too bad they didn't leave an actual review. Feedback is very important! Not everyone has the same taste...
> 
> HOWEVER, if you have read Searlus and the Sailor and think it deserves more than two stars, please rate and review on Amazon! It will help my stats! I'm so happy that I've managed to sell a book per day for 10 days straight! And readers on Kindle Unlimited seem to be gobbling it up! YAY!
> 
> Okay, let's move on:
> 
> The betas for this chapter are the incredible Danypooh & shitty_phan thank you SO much! (check out their fics!)

_ This is a problem _ , thought Crowley in a quiet and dignified panic while Aziraphale dove into his tale of what happened after the lot of them had escaped the Eastern Camp. The serpent really was trying to pay attention to every word, but he could just not concentrate. And it wasn’t that Aziraphale was boring in any way, to the contrary, he was an excellent storyteller. He spoke with his hands, his facial expressions were expressive, and his tone was like that of an old bard from the many fantasy films Crowley had watched. All of that was fascinating enough. He was so… Human! So fucking human! Crowley kept his sunglasses on-if not everyone would probably be asking why he was blinking so much. He fully expected to wake up from whatever dream he was living every time he closed and opened his eyes. But it was reality. Aziraphale was right there. He was right there, with soft white skin, bright blue eyes, white-blonde hair, and a beaming smile that could blind the sun itself. It was destroying Crowley little by little. The droid before him, chatting away animatedly, with pink pinchable cheeks, was chipping away at his sanity one moment at a time.

Crowley felt his cheeks heat as he once again focused on the angelic features on Aziraphale‘s face. He was grateful that Aziraphale had survived, fucking relieved beyond anything, but– but life was just not fucking fair, was it? _No. Not fair at all._ _Bloody evil, the universe, and whoever runs it._

Crowley had been instantaneously attracted to Aziraphale at first sight! And he already cared for Aziraphale before his new and improved form very much. Had he been really human, Crowley would have thought he found his soulmate! But Aziraphale was emphatically not human. He was an android. A program. A series of numbers put together in a lab. The AI was created to imitate human emotions, that didn’t mean they were real.  _ Right? _

“So, you got a pecker?”

Beez leaned over and smacked Hastur on the side of the head. “What is wrong with you? That’s a personal question… that I would really love to have the answer to,” they finished with excitement and a burning curiosity in their eyes. “But, hey, you don’t have to answer that.”

“You  _ absolutely _ don’t have to answer that,” Crowley added seriously, even if he’d wondered the very same thing more times than he could count since he saw Aziraphale half-naked at Tracy’s. Crowley’s ears were on fire, as was the rest of him. He hoped Aziraphale would answer, then he mentally slapped himself. It didn’t matter what he had between his legs because nothing was going to happen between them. Nothing. 

Aziraphale looked at Crowley briefly before answering in a very casual way while motioning to himself grandly. “What you see is an exact replica of a human male body. So, if by  _ pecker _ , you mean cock, then yes. I have a pecker.”

Beez burst out laughing and squeaked out the word pecker a few times before trying to collect themselves. Even Hastur was chuckling earnestly and Aziraphale seemed to find their reaction amusing judging by the bashful smile on his lips. The only one not reacting cheerfully at the news of Aziraphale owning a pecker was yours truly, Crowley. 

He missed the way Aziraphale’s smile faltered at the sight of Crowley’s deep scowl. Now that the dunces had their answer, there was no way there wouldn’t be any follow up questions of whether or not said cock functioned in its full capacity.

“Can ya wank,” asked Hastur.

Aziraphale furrowed his brow and tilted his head. “What’s a wank?”

Again, Beez exploded into high-pitched giggles and kept snorting while trying to get their shit together.

“Never mind that, angel. Shit, I can’t keep saying that,” Crowley chastised himself.

Hastur gave Crowley a withering look and nodded. “The whole camp’s gonna find out if you keep flapping that gob o’ yours, eejit .”

Abruptly, Beez leaned towards Aziraphale and pinched his arm. Aziraphale flinched and yelped, rubbing the sting on his arm. “Ow!” He shot Beez a disapproving glance and pouted. “Now why would you do that?”

The three demons all had their mouths dropped open in wonder. It took a moment for Aziraphale to catch on. 

“Oh! Was that supposed to be a sensory test?” He kept rubbing his arm with a sad curve to his eyebrows. “You could have just asked,” he complained.

“You feel,” Crowley breathed out in astonishment.

Meeting Crowley’s eyes, Aziraphale shot him that smile that would surely be Crowley’s demise in the near future. “I do, yes. Everything is synthetic, mind you, but my nervous system, along with everything else functions the same way yours do. Marvelous, isn’t it? You really cannot imagine what it was like to feel for the first time! Michael really outdid herself.”

“Who’s Michael,” asked Beez.

Aziraphale opened and closed his mouth quickly. He seemed in deep thought for a moment before he ventured to answer. “You never met her. Dr. Brigad. She was– _ –is _ my, um, creator. She and Dr. Archangel.”

“Ah, good ol’ Gaby,” Beez sneered, “thank fuck you escaped that bastard.”

Aziraphale’s face crumpled a moment before settling on something wistful. “He’s not so bad.”

“Yeah, right,” Beez said with a roll of their eyes. “He’s probably sipping on Margaritas in his fancy flat, rolling around on a mountain of money like Scrooge McDuck.”

Crowley chuckled along with Beez until he noticed Aziraphale slump in his seat and look at his shoes.

“No, not really,” Aziraphale sighed with dejection. “I was only recently able to free Gabriel and Michael from solitary confinement.” He closed his eyes and frowned. 

“Wait,” Beez sat at attention with a mixture of disbelief and shock. “What does that mean? They-they were caged up alone for-for three  _ years _ ? No fucking way.”

With a nod and another sigh, Aziraphale opened his eyes again. Crowley was sure he was going to see tears, but none appeared. “Exactly. It’s my fault but I can’t say I regret it. Your lives were at stake, and although they’ve suffered, I knew that GOD would not execute them. Well, there was a five percent chance they’d die but I risked it anyway. I can’t express how awful it felt to know that the two I consider as a mother and father were being psychologically tortured because of what I did. But they live. That’s-that’s what’s important. Or so I tell myself.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Beez collapsed in their chair. “So, did they do anything to you? GOD.”

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale obviously deflected.

Crowley shifted in his seat and leaned on his thighs. “After they… shot you down,” Crowley cringed. “What happened? We were so sure that-that they’d destroy you.” He fisted his hands in anger at the memory of his friend being riddled with bullets with his arms outstretched in a protective stance.

Aziraphale laughed. “Do you really believe they’d destroy their trillions of dollars worth of research?”

“Trillions,” Hastur repeated dryly. “Got a point.”

It did not get past Crowley that Aziraphale had still not answered the question. A cold fear began to swim in his gut. “Aziraphale.”

The angel did not look his way immediately and he was all too hesitant. “Yes, dear?”

Even though Aziraphale had called him and Beez that endearment before, Crowley had never felt the small flip in his stomach as he did at that moment. But Crowley was not going to let this go. It was vital information. What if they had destroyed Aziraphale and this was a copy? What if this angel was an actual spy?

“Answer the question, please.”

Something must have been showing on his face for Aziraphale to wince. The angel seemed apologetic when he began to recount what had happened. “They did not destroy me, Crowley. I am the Aziraphale you met and made memories with. Please don’t give it another thought. But...” he paused and gave a resolute exhale. “They tried to reprogram me.”

The silence in the room was thick as they all soberly stared at Aziraphale.

“They… changed you?” Beez whispered.

Aziraphale frowned and nodded stiffly. “Yes, a bit.”

“What did they change,” Crowley nearly yelled.

Aziraphale’s eyes grew wide. “Nothing that affects me, I promise. I was able to secretly manage the updates. They are there, but my core programming is still at the forefront.”

Hastur breathed a sigh of relief but Crowley did not feel at ease. Not one bit.

“You can lie, right?” Crowley asked, his nerves turning to steel as he realized the possibility that they had let an enemy right through their doors. “You are able to lie.”

“Erm, yes, but I’m telling you the truth–“

“What were the changes?” Crowley asked again.

Aziraphale closed his eyes as if in terrible pain. “My autonomy,” he finally confessed. He lifted his gaze to Crowley pleadingly. “They wanted me to follow orders, not be able to make up my own but–“

“And it’s in there,” Crowley tapped his head. “But you… can manage it?”

“Yes.”

“How?” He needed Aziraphale to convince him. It wasn’t just for the sake of the war. Crowley needed to know that this Aziraphale was the same one who saved his life. That same timid, curious, kind angel he’d met years ago.

“Because I programmed it that way.” Aziraphale straightened and lifted his chin with pride. “It was difficult and in a way, painful, but I added the ability to archive anything in me. So, their code is indeed in here,” he pointed at his head, “but I archive them. In fact, I’m archiving as we speak. It’s a constant action but I can manage that and much more.”

Crowley nodded and gave Aziraphale a weak smile. “Right. I understand. Thanks for, eh, explaining.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said kindly. 

“You said it was painful,” Beez accused with that cold, flat stare that meant they wanted to murder.

“Not physically, obviously, but it’s hard to explain. I was being forced to accept my new code. That intrusion was and still is… erm, difficult.”

“They raped your brain, those motherfuckers!” Beez shot out of their chair and paced. “Fucking-fuck-mother–“

Aziraphale jumped up and caught Beez by the shoulders. “I’m all right, and if I had a choice I’d free you all over again. Please don’t worry on my account.”

Beez sighed sharply, blowing their hair off their cheeks in the process. “...yeah… alright.” They grabbed Aziraphale’s hands and then their eyes went wide. “Fuck even you’re skin feels like skin! Do you bleed too?”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Of course. Though I can stop it and speed up the healing process.”

So Aziraphale could bleed. Crowley mused on that for a moment while Beez continued to barrage Aziraphale with questions, turning his hands over and inspecting them. 

Aziraphale could feel touch, he could bleed, but that wasn’t enough to make him human. Nothing would ever be enough.

“Crowley, shit, you gotta feel this!” Beez yelled out.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Crowley found both Beez and Hastur stroking Aziraphale’s bare arms like he was a fine fur coat. It was quick work for his blood to rise to his cheeks at the thought of touching Aziraphale’s very realistic skin while looking like a sexy librarian. Aziraphale’s coat was off and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and that waistcoat was so form-fitting! Crowley’s insides squirmed and he nearly let out a whimper of sexual frustration.

“You can if you like,” Aziraphale chirped, almost sounding hopeful. 

Crowley swallowed and shook his head. “No, that’s alright.” He hated himself for causing such a beautiful face to crumple. “Erm, alright, yeah, I’ll-I’ll, here–“ Crowley snatched Aziraphale's wrist and held his hand palm up. Still locked on his wrist, Crowley cupped Azraphale’s hand and stroked his warm palm. 

“Fascinating,” Crowley whispered, clearly awed. He was utterly astonished and was close to accusing Aziraphale of being a human actor. It was possible. Crowley got lost in thought as he traced the lifeline on the soft skin. When he lifted his gaze, he found Aziraphale was extremely close and looking at him strangely.

“Hey, have you had sex?” Beez shouted.

Crowley pulled his hands away from the angel and shoved them in his pockets, stepping back in the process.

“He hasn’t even wanked yet,” said Hastur.

“He doesn’t know wank means masturbate–“

“Oh,” Aziraphale blinked. He looked between everyone and smiled shyly. “I have not done either.”

For some reason that warmed Crowley’s chest. Hastur just had to ruin it. 

“Why not?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “Well, I don’t get aroused, so I don’t–“

“You what?!” Beez screamed. “But you said you had the whole human package! Oh, wait! So, you’re a-sexual! Of course!”

Aziraphale contemplated and frowned. “I suppose I am. Though I do wish to experience it. I can control the chemical reactions in my body, so I can make myself aroused, if I… if…” Aziraphale took in a sharp breath and looked at Crowley. “If I find someone that I’d like to share such an intimate experience with.”

_ I-am  _ fucked _. _   
  


Aziraphale was sure the message landed when Crowley’s neck started blotching red. He enhanced his hearing to see if Crowley’s heart had sped up and it had. Even his eyes said it all because the sunglasses had slipped down his nose and Aziraphale could see those lovely amber eyes clearly. Although Aziraphale knew that Crowley may have understood his meaning, Crowley showed no sign that he was either for or against the idea. Aziraphale was suddenly attacked with fear when he thought of Crowley reeling and disgusted.

But nothing.

Crowley just stood there, with that mildly surprised look on his face. Beez cleared their throat, and when Aziraphale snapped his head in their direction, he found them with a look so smug, that Aziraphale knew they had also understood quite clearly.

“Well,” Beez drawled, “I hope you find that special someone.” Their grin was downright frightening and Aziraphale couldn’t help feeling mortified and scared.

“It’s gettin’ late,” Crowley held his hands up apologetically as he stepped back towards the door. “We ought to get some rest. Big day tomorrow. Tomorrow, we can go over what kind of role you want in the gang, and maybe I can get it approved. Or Beez, actually.

Hastur scoffed. “You have a higher chance of that since you’re fucking the boss.”

Aziraphale experienced a literal glitch, which was odd and needed to be dealt with as soon as possible. But he couldn’t think about that because his mind kept replaying those words a hundred times a second.

Crowley cringed and bared his teeth. “I’m not  _ fucking anyone _ . There’s nothing between us, okay?”

Aziraphale wondered if that comment was meant to refer to Lucifer or him. And there was nothing between them, after all. If Crowley was answering his message with rejection, then Aziraphale had no right to feel like his heart just shattered.

“Yeah, right,” Hastur grumbled.

“Whatever,” Crowley waved the conversation away with a sigh. “I need my sleep. All this excitement’s got me knackered.” He let out a long yawn and stretched his arms up. The flash of skin as his shirt lifted was absolutely going to short circuit something. 

What would his skin feel like in places like that, Aziraphale wondered. Feeling the warmth of Crowley’s rough hands-only fuelled his curiosity. He’d never wanted anything so badly as to be as close to Crowley as  _ humanly  _ possible. Skin on skin, absorbing one another’s warmth, and offering shelter to each other. Aziraphale wanted to keep Crowley safe and make sure he never felt alone or in pain again, but that was idealistic and he knew that. He wanted to feel safe too–to eradicate his ever-present loneliness, but that too was unfair. To place that kind of pressure on Crowley would surely drive him away. But Aziraphale’s new directive… well, there was a big chance it would become a problem. He needed to keep that information secret or Crowley would run from him for certain.

Beez pushed past Crowley, bumping him hard on the shoulder. “G’night pricks!” They made a rude gesture over their shoulder as they walked out. 

Crowley nearly ran after them. “Yeah, Aziraphale,” he rushed out, “I’m so glad you’re here. See you tomorrow!”

And then he was gone.

Aziraphale closed his eyes. The need for tears was almost as painful as his need to make things right with Crowley. Obviously, he’d made Crowley uncomfortable. 

A thud brought Aziraphale’s attention back to Hastur. He was unrolling a small bed on the ground. It was stained with all kinds of colors and food and goodness knows what else was crusted on there as well.

“Here’s a blanket. Need to get a better one somewhere. It’ll do for now. And just throw your shit anywhere ya like, I don’t mind.” Hastur saluted him, then dragged his feet to the mattress in the corner and flopped down flat on his face.

“Eh, well, I can’t thank you enou–“

Hastur let out a loud rumbling fart and then sighed with relief before he began to snore.

Standing alone in the center of the empty flat, Aziraphale turned in a slow circle. He scanned the floor, the walls, and the ceiling. It was just as bad as his first survey of the place except with an added rodent to the list. He looked down at what was supposed to be his bed and shook his head.

Now Aziraphale knew exactly what  _ actual _ disgust felt like in all its glory.

“This should all be set on fire.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kudos and comments. It brightens my day every time! 
> 
> You can find me on Instagram, twitter and tumble @mordellestories or visit my new website: www.mordelle.com
> 
> Stay safe and happy holidays!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Unwanted attention/flirting/touchy-feely but nothing too bad.
> 
> Thank you SO much for all the lovely comments. You've all been so supportive and it really helps. I'm glad you're all still enjoying the story!
> 
> This chapter was beta'd by danypooh. If you enjoy Mass Effect fanfic, check out her fics!

It was a miracle that Hastur did not wake once in the middle of Aziraphale’s cleaning fit of the century. Aziraphale hardly cared if he disturbed his host anyway because it was for the greater good. Lord knows how many health issues the poor man had because of his disgusting living conditions! Aziraphale decided it just had to fix it. Why on earth had Hastur allowed himself to live in what was essentially and literally a dump? Was the man just lazy? Did he inherit the mess and figure he wouldn’t put the effort into cleaning someone else’s rubbish? It was confounding, to say the least.

Unfortunately, because Aziraphale had no access to proper disinfectants and hot water, he made do with boiling murky greywater from the sink and mixing it with vinegar and salt. When that ran out, he repurposed the whiskey. He dearly hoped that Hastur would not be too upset. A memory of Gabriel catching him experimenting with his prized alcohol came to mind, and Aziraphale shuddered. Gabriel had not been happy at all. In any case, he would replace everything he’d used up to clean.

The stink of Aziraphale’s efforts was palpable, but it was a hundred times better than the reeking stench of the likes Aziraphale had ever smelled. It had taken him six straight hours to put things to rights. Not that the flat was in great condition, even so, it was now livable. Since Aziraphale had nothing to patch the holes where the pests came through, he trained the mice to chase off the roaches. His next mission would be to find a cat to chase off the mice. 

There was a telltale groan from Hastur’s bed, and Aziraphale perked up and dusted his shirt and trousers off. He stood straight, held his hands behind his back, and smiled expectantly.

Twenty-two minutes later, Hastur finally rose from his bed, eerily looking like Nosferatu, and just… sat there… with his eyes closed and mouth hanging open. Aziraphale, not for the first or last time, wondered if the man had suffered some kind of head injury that permanently made him, well, _him_.

With a loud snort followed by a screaming yawn, Hastur finally stood up and opened his eyes–barely. 

Aziraphale smiled brightly, certain that Hastur would soon be in complete shock. But no. No, why would he react as a normal person would? All Hastur did was shuffle past Aziraphale groaning a “Mornin’, dandy boy,” and then proceeded to the water closet. Not bothering to shut the door, Hastur relieved himself. At least he had the decency to… rinse his hands. He drank right out of the faucet, gargled, and spit out what was surely some kind of alien life form howling in pain.

The man emerged from the washroom and made for the kitchenette. 

“I made tea,” Aziraphale informed him, eyes wide with wonder.

“Thanks, buck.” Hastur picked up a plastic cup containing the beverage and slurped it up in one go. He sighed and nodded his head approvingly. “Sleep alright?”

Now, Hastur was looking directly at Aziraphale, eyes alert if not unbothered. This told Aziraphale that the man was in fact _not_ blind. “I stayed up. Thought I’d… clean a little… as a thank you for your… hospitality.”

Hastur yawned and scratched his bald head while he shrugged. “My pleasure and all that shite.” He looked at his old watch and scoffed. “Gonna be late. We should get Crowley before he sleeps until noon again.”

And with that, Hastur turned around, opened the door, and walked out.

Aziraphale surveyed his handiwork one last time just to make sure he wasn’t the one who had lost his mind somehow. 

“Nope.”

For the first time in what seemed like ages, Crowley had barely gotten any sleep. Usually, he overslept and still felt tired. This time, he’d tossed and turned all night until he gave up trying to sleep altogether and he had energy to spare. His eyes bugged out and bloodshot, and he was definitely experiencing a good amount of anxiety, but at least his place was spotless. Not that Crowley ever let his flat get anywhere near the way Hastur’s disaster zone got. Crowley, although experiencing bouts of depression, could never stand his living conditions being out of order. It was the primary reason he had so few belongings. His life was already a mess, and he needed control over something. Ever since his stay in the sterile environment of the Eastern Camp, Crowley could not bear seeing a single crumb or speck of dust without at least an eye twitch. 

Poor Aziraphale, Crowley thought for the millionth time. How could he have just left him in that wasteland that was Hastur’s flat? He should have invited him to stay with him. He should have gone back for him. But he couldn’t. Crowley just couldn’t bring himself to do it. It wasn’t because he thought Aziraphale would be a bother. Sure, Crowley loved his privacy, but it wouldn’t have been a big deal. For all intents and purposes, Aziraphale would surely be assigned to the low-rank barracks, which in all honesty, was probably a better option to Hastur’s. But Crowley didn’t want to lose sight of Aziraphale, and yet, he didn’t want Aziraphale too close either. 

It was ridiculous. Crowley was anxious about having Aziraphale around, but even worse so having Aziraphale out of sight.

“Shit.”

Certain that the third cup of coffee would snap him out of whatever meltdown he was experiencing, Crowley slurped his drink and paced in a wide circle. There was no way he was attracted to Aziraphale. He chuckled out loud at the thought. There could be no chemistry between him and a droid. It was impossible. Crowley nodded and slammed his empty mug on the kitchen counter with resolution. It was just in his head. Crowley had gotten attached to the droid back at the camp–who wouldn’t? Aziraphale was kind, curious, and innocent. Not to mention highly intelligent, funny…

“Shit.”’

Crowley shook his head vigorously, trying to dispel the image of bright blue eyes from his mind. 

“Nah. I’m just happy to see him. I saw him… die and I’m just projecting my, erm, relief that he’s okay and that I don’t have to feel guilty anymore. Yeah. That’s it. He’s like a-a-a cute little brother! Yeah.” 

A loud knocking made Crowley nearly jump out of his skin. 

“WAKE UP YA LAZY–

He rushed to the door and tore it open.

Hastur nearly hit Crowley in the nose with his fist. A brief look of shock passed over Hastur, and then he grinned. “You’re awake.” He gave Crowley a once-over and his grin turned into a downright sneer. “And ready to go. Wonder why...” 

Crowley did not like that look–not at all.

At Aziraphale’s approach, Hastur’s expression turned into his usual look of boredom. 

“Good morning, Crowley,” Aziraphale chirped with a bounce in his step and a smile to power up the entire building. 

“Shit.”

  
  
  
The morning was mostly uneventful. The demon trio split up to accomplish whatever tasks assigned to them. Beez ordered Crowley to babysit Aziraphale, which didn’t bother him in the slightest. All he had to do was show Aziraphale around and help him figure out what role he’d like in their ranks. Easy.

So, why was his heart beating a mile a second?

Beez was out of sight, Hastur had long gone, and they were now… alone. And that was fine. It was tickety-boo.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale inquired with a concerned furrow of this brow. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yep.”

“I’m sorry, my dear, but that was a flat out lie.” His bottom lip protruded into the most adorable pout Crowley had ever laid eyes on. “I don’t like being lied to, Crowley, especially from the people I hold dear. If you don’t wish to talk about something, merely say so, and I’ll respect that.”

_Hold dear._

Crowley cleared his throat. “Feeling a bit winded, is all. And everything is so bloody loud.” There really wasn’t much going on, just the odd car here and there, people walking and talking, ambient noises of a semi-busy area. But each sound felt like someone was taking a bat to glass right by his ears.

Aziraphale reached out and hesitated. “May I?” He asked quietly, hand palm up. 

Crowley wasn’t sure what he wanted but nodded regardless. Then he panicked because apparently, the angel wanted to hold his hand. Crowley fought the urge to flinch away and wipe off his cold sweat on his trousers. Aziraphale wrapped his other hand around his wrist, pressing a numb gently on his pulse.

The concerned expression returned. “Have you eaten anything this morning?”

“Um, just coffee.”

“Coffee.” Aziraphale frowned with disapproval and then narrowed his eyes. “How much coffee?”

“I don’t know, a few cups–“

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped. “Caffeine shouldn’t even be present in your diet, you have a heart condition, for Heaven’s sake! Your heart rate feels like you just ran a mile!”

The world around them seemed to grow smaller. Crowley could only see Aziraphale looking at him like a scolding mother hen–an _adorable_ mother hen with a lovely protruding lip he just wanted to _bite._ It occurred to Crowley that his sudden bout of arithmetic abnormality had nothing to do with coffee. 

“Why don’t you lead us to a place where we can sit and have a bite.”

“I’ll bite y–yes. Eat. Food.”

Aziraphale was still touching him. “Right.” He brightened and smiled. “Some breakfast is in order. Where shall we go?”

 _Lord, his skin just feels so_ real _._ Was it truly possible? Was the man standing in front of him really Aziraphale? How could he possibly know for sure if he could breathe, eat, and potentially _fu–_

“Crowley?”

Crowley startled and snatched his hand away, sticking them decisively in his pockets. Aziraphale noticed, but the visible disappointment only lasted a moment. “Yeah, I know just the place.”

  
  


They ended up walking to a small restaurant nearby called Nouvelle Cuisine. The name seemed promising, but upon entering the establishment, Aziraphale changed his expectations–drastically. It was a cafeteria-style establishment with no menu, where the food was already prepared and handed out once paid for. 

The food itself seemed edible, but what struck Aziraphale the most was the size of the portions. It was little to nothing. Only a handful of peas, a few string beans, and just a sliver of what he hoped was chicken. Crowley ordered two trays and began pulling out a wad of notes before Aziraphale could stop him.

“I don’t, erm, _need_ to eat, my dear,” Aziraphale muttered close so only Crowley could hear. “I don’t want you spending your hard-earned money on me.”

“Nonsense,” Crowley dismissed his comment with a wave. “I’m not gonna sit and eat while you just stare at me. It’s no problem, really. In fact,” he turned to Aziraphale suddenly, pulled out more notes and shoved it in Aziraphale’s coat pocket. “You should have a bit of cash on you just in case.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t–“

“Nope. You’ll keep it or risk offending me.” Crowley turned up his nose with a beautiful blush that made Aziraphale want to grab his face and feel their warmth. There was no ire in Crowley’s statement, and eventually, he even smirked.

Aziraphale placed his hand on his full pocket and ducked his head humbly. “I wouldn’t dream of offending you. I suppose I do need to restock some of Hastur’s supplies.”

They grabbed their meals and sat across from each other at a small booth. The cushions were patched up with duct tape and staples. The table wobbled every time one of them cut into their chicken or merely grazed it with an elbow. Still, Aziraphale had no desire to be anywhere else. Right where he sat, he could easily sneak glances at Crowley without his notice and just look at him. He was lovely. So, so lovely. Crowley glanced up as he took a sip of his water, and Aziraphale diverted his eyes to his own plate.

“So, what supplies?” Crowley asked, stabbing his peas with a fork that had seen better days.

Aziraphale chuckled and sighed. “Mostly cleaning supplies… and maybe some plaster.” He wanted to say more but didn’t want to be rude. The sound of a fork clattered on a plate.

“You cleaned that disaster zone?!” Crowley reared back, incredulous. 

Aziraphale shrugged. “Well, someone had to. Not to be _indelicate,_ but is there something… I don’t want to say _wrong_ with Hastur…”

“Oh, there is a lot wrong with him,” Crowley snickered. “But, ugh,” he let out with an embarrassed sigh, “I should have invited you to stay with me. I’m sorry, Aziraphale, I-I-I don’t know–“

Aziraphale placed his utensils down and frantically waved away his apology. “No-no! Please don’t apologize. I’m actually glad. The poor man couldn’t keep living under those conditions, good lord. Why?” Aziraphale whined suddenly. “Why would he live like that?”

Crowley took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He’s always been a disgusting toad and... Ligur, his husband, did most of the cleaning and cooking, or at least he’d nag Hastur to get his arse up and do it. But, now he…”

“He can’t,” Aziraphale finished, closing his eyes in shame. “I’ve been terribly uncouth. My deepest apologies.”

“Hey now, hey,” Crowley said seriously, “if I’m not allowed to apologize, then neither are you. It’s not your fault Hastur chooses to live in a rat’s nest.” He chuckled good-heartedly. “He knows he’s a mess, and he doesn’t give a shit, so neither should you. It was really nice of you to help him out.”

“More like absolutely necessary. You know he didn’t even _notice_ the flat was clean this morning? He just,” Aziraphale flailed his arms with a confused frown, “went about his morning like nothing.”

Crowley barked out a laugh and began eating once more. “I believe it. But, trust me, he noticed. He might act all aloof and whatnot, but he notices and, more importantly, remembers. He’ll repay you when you least expect it.”

Aziraphale felt his corporation warm at that. “He doesn’t have to repay anything.”

Crowley snorted, not looking at Aziraphale when he let out a “Yeah, because you’re an angel. Selfless and all that.” He froze for a brief moment then resumed picking at his meager peas.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to do with that. He wasn’t a literal angel, and he definitely wasn’t selfless. A hint of worry shot through him at the thought of Crowley placing him on a pedestal–out of reach. “I assure you, Crowley, that it was at least 95% selfishness that spurred me to make the place livable.”

Crowley chuckled but kept his covered eyes on his plate.

Once they finished with “breakfast”, Crowley led them towards an outdoor market. They were idly chatting about what Aziraphale needed to purchase when they were abruptly interrupted.

“Serpent.” It was War. “Morningstar wants a word. Alone.”

Just the mention of that moniker sounded off internal alarms, and Aziraphale had to clasp his hands together to keep them from shaking with the effort to suppress his murderous directive.

“Fuck,” Crowley breathed and dragged a hand through his red locks. He turned to Aziraphale with an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry.”

“No need! Go on. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah?” Crowley really seemed reluctant to leave him, which helped with the twinge of jealousy nipping at Aziraphale’s resolve. 

“Of course. I’ll just get some shopping done. Get to know the locals. Don’t you worry about me.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Crowley reassured. “Meet you here, but if you want to leave–“

“I know my way back.” Aziraphale gave him a kind, reassuring smile and nodded for Crowley to follow the messenger.

As Crowley walked away, Aziraphale was happy to see that he turned back twice to give him a weak, apologetic smile. Aziraphale, in turn, kept his eyes on his friend until he was completely out of sight. Oh, how he loved him.

Crowley should have known. He hadn’t thought about it, but he should have known that Lucifer had no actual business to discuss. 

“I can’t, Lu,” Crowley groaned, backing away from the too personal embrace from his boss. He ended up having to gently but firmly push Lucifer away. Lucifer caught his wrists anyway, leaving Crowley’s hands trapped on the younger man’s chest.“You said rain-check,” Lucifer pouted.

Unlike Aziraphale’s, Lucifer’s pout did not move Crowley. In fact, his dopey mind went straight to picturing that cute Cupid’s bow lip and there was just no comparing the two. Crowley mentally kicked himself but knew it was useless. He was drawn to the angel. He left it at that, though. There was no way he could let his thoughts run away into very dangerous and impossible territory.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t mean right away. My friend just got here,” Crowley complained. “And anyway, I told you,” Crowley wiggled his wrists out of Lucifer’s grasp, “it was a onetime thing.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes and mercifully walked back to his desk. “Right, but I am anything if not persistent, my sexy serpent.” He winked, sat down, and began rummaging through paperwork. “I do hope to change your mind someday. By the way,” he added before Crowley could rebut, “how is your _friend_?” The air quotes were very clear by the intonation alone. 

“My _friend_ ,” Crowley mocked, “is alone in an unfamiliar place because you kidnapped me to flirt.”

Lucifer chuckled and seemed to find what he was looking for. “Mr. Azreal Z. Fell, and yet War tells me you call him by a different name?”

A sense of icy dread welled up in Crowley’s gut. His hands almost immediately went clammy and he could hear his heart skip a beat. “Not really,” he let out casually with a shrug. 

“Aziraphale,” Lucifer pronounced, letting the syllables roll and lengthen like he could almost taste a lie in the name. “Hm. Azreal Fell. Aziraphale. I suppose I get it.”

“It’s just a nickname, Lu, what’s the issue?” Crowley was glad that he sounded peeved instead of just plain scared.

Lucifer held up his hands in surrender. “Nothing, nothing at all. I just want to know more about,” his eyes roamed over Crowley’s body, “your relationship with him.”

“He’s a friend. That’s it.”

Lucifer’s smile was not convincing, his eyes narrowing with accusation. “I believe you. I just don’t believe him.”

 _Oh fuck_ , thought Crowley. “Wh-what do you mean?” His hand itched to pull on his collar, it was chafing him like mad.

“How much do you know about him? How did you two meet?”

“You know how we met. I know enough about him to know he’s an ally.”

Lucifer nodded with something akin to sympathy. “You vouch for him. I trust you. But I need to do what’s best for the cause. I can’t take any chances. I’ll be bringing him in for questioning.” Lucifer gauged Crowley’s reaction. 

Crowley saw the trap well in advance. “And?”

“And,” Lucifer stood, walked around his desk, and leaned on it casually with his arms crossed. “If there is any suspicion that he is a _spy_ ,” he emphasized, “then I need to know whose side you’ll be on.”

Dread was replaced with a simmering rage. “You think I’m a traitor? Where did that trust go suddenly,” he asked quietly to keep from outright yelling at the most dangerous man Crowley knew.

“Anthony,” Lucifer tutted and pushed off his desk so he could place his hands on Crowley’s shoulders, “of course, I don’t think you’re a traitor. You are the most loyal person I know, which is why I know it will be difficult for you to choose who to be loyal to if the opportunity arises.”

“Well, it won’t,” he clipped. “Aziraphale is not a spy.”

“And if he is–“

“I’m not doing this, Lu. You’re jealous, I get it. My loyalty is to the cause. And _if_ we peg Aziraphale as a spy, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Which we won’t. Because he’s not.”

There was a long moment of silence where Crowley was certain that Lucifer would lose his shit, but he merely smiled and gave him a playful shake before releasing him. “Maybe I am a bit jealous. You can’t blame me, Anthony, look at you. You are temptation on legs.” 

The man lifted his hand to caress Crowley’s cheek, but Crowley stepped out of his reach. Aziraphale _asked_ before touching him. 

“Oh, come on,” Lucifer chided, “As the leader of this damned rebellion, I need to be sure that my trust is not misplaced. I care deeply for you, Anthony, I really do. I don’t want to see you get hurt– _I_ would never hurt you.”

“Nice to hear,” Crowley deadpanned. “Now, I actually have a request, but I think I know your answer.”

“Oh?” Lucifer raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “Go on.”

“I want Aziraphale under me.” As soon as that sentence came out, Crowley nearly choked. “I mean,” he blushed and hated himself for it, “our squad needs a proper medic and Aziraphale has experience tending to wounds.” It wasn’t technically a lie. Aziraphale tended to him and Beez while they were wounded, and it was clear the angel could read vital signs by merely touching someone with those soft, perfectly manicured, blessedly _soft_ hands. _Keep it together, Satan damn you._

Lucifer seemed genuinely surprised. “What does a bookstore clerk know about being a medic?”

“A lot. Seeing is he’s read a lot of books on the subject. Has a photographic memory, too. Ask Beez.”

“Well!” Lucifer stepped back, eyes wide and impressed. “Color me surprised. In that case, maybe I could have use for him in another–“

“No.” Crowley did not know where his sudden bravery came from, but he plowed ahead. “He’s mine. Ngh–I mean my responsibility, I owe him.” Lucifer quirked a brow in challenge. Crowley knew he’d crossed a line, so he changed tactics before he could lose Aziraphale forever. “Please, Lu,” Crowley genuinely pleaded. “I told him to find me. That I’d protect him. I know you’re my general, but you’re also my friend… aren’t you?”

Lucifer gnawed on his lower lip, weighing his options and words carefully. “You know I want to be more than friends, love. Go out with me and I’ll grant your request.”

Crowley shuddered. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Oh, yes.”

“You won’t let Aziraphale be on my squad unless you get to _fuck_ me?” The simmering rage turned into a full-blown boil that threatened to spill out over the edges of his patience.

Lucifer hesitated, but then rolled his eyes with fondness. “Of course, not, ninny,” he grinned, “Honestly, I’m not a monster, Anthony. Goodness. All I want is a fair chance to win your heart.” Lucifer’s eyes pleaded, and damn him, Crowley felt his resolve give just a little. “Please?”

Crowley chewed on the inside of his cheek before huffing and growling. “One date.”

“Five.”

“Two.”

“Four.”

“Fuck’s sake–three and that’s my last offer.” Crowley all but stomped his foot down.

Lucifer bit his lip, but his grin was wide and smug. “Deal.”

Crowley suddenly imagined a noose tied around his neck. _Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't yet and would like to, subscribe to me as an author by clicking on my user name and hitting the subscribe button so that you'll be notified of any new fics I write in the future! You can also subscribe to my website: mordelle.com
> 
> PS if anyone is moved to draw or write anything inspired by this story (or any of my other ones), feel free to do so but please let me know so I can swoon over it and share it!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Finally! I think this might be the longest chapter yet. WAHOO!  
> Let's see... since I last posted, I am happy to announce I completed a short film for an indie producer friend of mine. And he paid me. ::swoons::  
> I'm still doing voiceovers.  
> I'm learning about how to get myself traditionally published as a bonafide author! (If any of you have experience and advice, please feel free to chat me up!)
> 
> Make sure to see the endnotes for important messages and links!

Crowley had never been a fan of running. His knobby knees just couldn’t take it, really. It wasn’t just that, though. His heart was always fit to explode after drills, and more often than not, he’d see black spots while trying to get his wind back. Also, he never understood the appeal. Who in their right mind _runs_ for _fun_? So, that Crowley was sprinting toward Aziraphale had to say _something_ about his growing feelings for his robot friend. _No._ He slid that door shut like a shoji screen and immediately thought of how the screens were made of paper with no locks. _How fitting_ , because that is exactly what his denial was looking like, nice and thin, breakable, sheer.

But that wasn’t important now, because what took the forefront of his mind was getting to the angel as quickly as possible so that they could find Beez and get their stories straight before Lucifer got ahold of him. 

Crowley panted, legs faltering about every ten steps. He was drenched in sweat and breathing through his mouth like a stray dog. A pressure built in his chest, his lungs working overtime to force blood through his abnormally beating heart. Unwillingly, Crowley slowed down and placed a hand to his chest like he could perform some miracle to make the pain go away. At last, he couldn’t go on. Bumping into several people along the way, Crowley doubled over–every breath like a roundhouse to the chest. 

“Fu–” he coughed and hacked until he thought he’d be sick. “Fu-gh- _fuck_!” He had to keep it together, but it was hard to think. 

Crowley remembered belatedly that he should have stood straight and lifted his arms instead of compressing his chest further. He’d seen blotches of black in his vision before he righted himself and crossed his arms over his head. His back made a slight bend as Crowley gasped for oxygen from above. He had to keep moving. He had to reach Aziraphale. The knobby lanky legs power-walked toward the market, Crowley’s head snapping side to side as not to miss the angel.

“Azir–ough! Fhail! Zirafell…Azi-AH!” Crowley spotted him. Aziraphale’s cloud-like hair bobbing through a small crowd. “Angel!” _Fuck, you idiot_ , he cursed himself for using the moniker. Crowley squared his shoulders and soldiered on, putting his sharp elbows to work.

People were cursing at him and yelping in pain as he barreled through the crowd. Abruptly, Crowley was met with Aziraphale’s back, nearly sending them toppling.

Aziraphale made a quick turn, an apology on his lips before beaming at him. “Crowley!” He’d said it with such joy that made Crowley’s heart stutter without the excuse of arrhythmia. 

“Aziraphale,” he rasped, still winded from his trek. He placed a hand on the angel’s shoulders and squeezed. “Fuck, I’m glad I found you.”

Concern was immediately clear on his face. “What’s wrong? Crowley, breathe.”

Crowley waved away his words and began pulling Aziraphale from the major roads. In a shadowed corner, Crowley plastered the angel to a wall. He looked around suspiciously and was finally met with a pair of surprised, blue eyes. “Listen, they’re gonna question you. Soon. We need to find Beez and make sure we’re all on the same page.”

Aziraphale nodded, his game face on. “Understood.”

A pair of demons seemed to be headed their way. Crowley threw one arm to the wall against Aziraphale’s head and leaned in to cover him. Neither breathed until Crowley believed the danger was gone. Letting out a long breath, Crowley turned to face Aziraphale and flinched back from his proximity. They were nose to nose and breathing heavily. Crowley was glad he was wearing his sunglasses. His sudden ache of longing surprising the Heaven out of him. How could this be? How on Earth could this be? He was gone. Completely gone on a robot, _what the fuck_?! As much as his brain tried shoving that ridiculous realization back into a burning pit of sulfur, those blessed blue eyes were pleading beautifully. _Does he feel this too?_ As if answering his unsaid question, Aziraphale’s gaze dropped to his lips. _Oh, fuck_ , thought Crowley. He was in trouble and why wasn’t his brain making that a priority over wondering what those adorable lips tasted like? 

One little movement would bring their mouths together. He could get the answer to his question with just one, slight tilt and lean–

“Meow!”

Both Crowley and Aziraphale jumped away from each other, startled by the sound. A small fluffy, black kitten was scrambling to climb Crowley’s chest.

“Oh, dear!” Aziraphale grabbed the little thing, but its needle-like claws were stuck on Crowley's shirt. “Anathema, you cheeky thing. Come back here.” Aziraphale extricated the small cat and placed him inside of his coat pocket, keeping his hand cradling the little lump. “Sorry about that.”

“Wha-why do you have a cat in your pocket? Aziraphale opened his mouth to answer, but Crowley blurted out a “never mind” and shook his head to clear the bizarre moment. He lifted his radio. “Serpent to Fly-Serpent to Fly.”

There was some static before Beez replied. “Go for Fly.”

“Can you meet me at our spot? I ran out of cigarettes.” Crowley smirked at Aziraphale and mouthed “code.”

“Ten-Four. Stand by.”

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale by the hand and led him to a nonworking fountain filled with rubbish. It didn’t occur to Crowley that he was still clutching Aziraphale’s hand in his until they were suddenly surrounded and he was being pulled away. “Crowley!”

“Hey!” Crowley cried.

War, Pestilence, and Famine blocked his path. War stepped forward. “Morningstar needs your little boyfriend.”

“Wait,” Crowley said, grappling for something to say. “I-I need to talk to him for a moment.”

“After his interrogation,” Famine hissed.

“If it goes well, that is,” Pestilence added.

The horse persons turned on their heels and stalked away.

Aziraphale peered over his shoulder, a worried furrow of his brow and pursed lips. “I’ll be fine,” he yelled out, but it didn’t sound convincing.

“Shit,” Crowley breathed, trying his damnedest to calm down. He didn’t get a chance to tell Aziraphale-" _wait!_ When you come back,” Crowley shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth, “We’ll go over your medic duties!” 

The angel must have heard him and understood. “Ah, yes. My duties as a medic. Jolly good!”

 _Ha!_ Crowley nearly jumped in victory. At least he knew that. Aziraphale was clever, he hoped his cleverness would get him through his questioning unscathed.

* * *

It hardly mattered that Aziraphale was forcibly being dragged away from Crowley by the elbows. His mind was still swimming with images of their brief, intimate moment. Even if it had been accidental, the proximity had done some odd things to Aziraphale’s synthetic body. He was fascinated by his corporation’s response to the man. The feeling of excitement had heightened his vision to map out every crease, dimple, and freckle on Crowley’s face– _oh and that lovely pulse ticking on his long, slender neck_. Had Crowley not been in a hurry, Aziraphale would have loved to imagine Crowley’s heightened heart rate was due to how close they’d been. His hearing had zeroed in on Crowley’s breath, shallow and urgent. The flush that had spread on his cheeks was Aziraphale’s new favorite color, even if he never had one to begin with. For a moment, Aziraphale let himself believe Crowley might feel something for him. _Lord, but he is beautiful_ , he sighed dreamily.

A small part of his mind was screaming at him to organize his priorities because he was about to be in a room with the man he’d been programmed to assassinate. No, it wouldn’t do to keep replaying the moment he was delightfully trapped between a warm Crowley and a wall. If he didn’t reel in his emotions, he might end up massacring some demons in mere moments and then what would Crowley think? 

Aziraphale had just enough time to compartmentalize before he was rudely pushed through the halls of a building that looked like a prison. They stopped in front of a nondescript door and War banged their fist on it three times. There was a loud buzz right before the door pushed open and he was practically thrown inside.

He let himself trip a bit and gasp. He let his face take on a confused and fearful expression. It was easy to slip into the non-threatening demeanor of a meager bookseller as a steel chair was dragged to the center of the room and he was shoved into it. No sooner than his arse hit the seat, Lucifer strode in with all the confidence in the world. 

The Morningstar held a thin file in his hands and opened it without so much as a glance in Aziraphale’s direction. It didn’t matter that there was a lack of eye contact, Aziraphale’s hackles rose and his iron grip on his programming bucked like a rodeo bull. _Oh, dear._

“Greetings, Mr. Fell,” Lucifer droned, still thumbing through pages.

Aziraphale’s smile was artificial, but no one could tell. “Hello,” he replied with what sounded like genuine cheer, as if it were an honor to be in the man’s presence.

Lucifer snapped his eyes to Aziraphale then, a brow cocked in bemusement. “We have detained you for questioning.”

“Yes, I gathered,” said Aziraphale, smile never faltering.

There was a pause where Lucifer just took in all of Aziraphale, scrutinizing absolutely everything from head to toe, and then he inhaled sharply and snapped the folder closed. “There isn’t a lot of information about you in your file, Mr. Fell. It’s as if you didn’t exist before your employment at the _antiquarian_ bookshop. Why is that?”

“Hm,” Aziraphale narrowed his eyes and frowned. “Why, I don’t have the slightest. There should be information about the orphanage I was raised in.”

“Oh, there is,” Lucifer reassured. “Just that you attended. No information on parents. No merits. No demerits. Just your name in a roster.”

“Ah, I see,” Aziraphale nodded somberly. “Yes, I’ve never been too remarkable, I’m afraid. I’ve always tried to just blend in with the wallpaper, so to speak.” He chuckled. 

Lucifer’s grin was polite but didn’t reach his eyes. “So, you just attended school and went straight to work. And you were taken to the Eastern Camp six years ago. And yet, there is no reason specified.”

“Perfectly reasonable explanation. I wasn’t told why I was being arrested, you see. I’m quite sure that an irate customer made one of those awful anonymous calls to out me as homosexual. They had no proof, of course, but, well… it’s been mentioned that I’m not very… discreet? Which I find completely ridiculous. Mannerisms have nothing to do with sexual preferences, after all.”

“But you are?”

“What? Gay? Oh, yes,” he laughed, “beyond a doubt.” Aziraphale allowed one pointed look at Lucifer. A look he hoped translated to: _That’s right, I am definitely attracted to Crowley. My Crowley. Not yours. Mine. Mine-mine-mine._ His perfectly harmless facade was back in place in an instant.

Lucifer let out a small, amused scoff. “You say you’re unremarkable and yet I’ve been told you have a photographic memory.”

Aziraphale blinked. “And who told you that?” Could Lucifer know he was not human? There were humans with the capability for the talent, but it was rare and it was nothing like what Aziraphale could do.

“Why, our mutual friend Anthony, of course.” Lucifer tilted his head, eyes expectant.

Aziraphale was quite certain that Lucifer was not lying. But why would Crowley– _oh!_ He was to be a medic, and how would that fit with his lack of credentials? That was the only plausible explanation. “I have a knack for remembering things well, yes. Specifically, things I read, and I read quite a substantial amount. Or, at least I used to. Few literary options available to me for some time now.”

“Can you prove it?” Lucifer challenged.

Aziraphale smirked and imagined slapping the cocky smile of Lucifer’s face so hard that would make his neck snap. A slap so hard that his head would come clean off. He shook away that thought. “Of course.” His eye twitched without his permission, which was concerning. Aziraphale reinforced his perpetual override, but the urge to kill needed to be let out _somehow_ and _soon_. Before he jumped out of his seat with malicious intent, Aziraphale redirected the energy to his hands and legs. One of his knees bounced and his fingers fidgeted nervously. None of this escaped the shrewd eyes of his captor.

Lucifer smiled and held out an empty hand, which was quickly filled with a medical dictionary. He opened it to a random page and gave the tattered book to Aziraphale. “Memorize the last paragraph. You have one minute.”

Aziraphale carefully plucked the book from his hand, concentrating on not breaking the man’s wrist. “I won’t need that long,” Aziraphale said with a cocked brow. He took his time, of course. No need to raise suspicion. After about four seconds, he handed it back.

Lucifer huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. War took the initiative and took the dictionary, prepared to read along.

Aziraphale made a show of taking a deep breath. “Fecal incontinence is the inability to control bowel movements, causing stool (feces) to leak unexpectedly from the rectum. Also called bowel incontinence, fecal incontinence ranges from an occasional leakage of stool while passing gas to a complete loss of bowel control. Common causes of fecal incontinence include diarrhea, constipation, and muscle or nerve damage. The muscle or nerve damage may be associated with aging or with giving birth–”

“That’s enough of that,” Lucifer interrupted with a shudder. Obviously, he hadn’t known what he’d asked Aziraphale to read. He looked to War, who nodded. “Every word,” he asked, not able to hold back his surprise.

“Yes, sir.” War replied.

Lucifer looked back at Aziraphale, impressed. “Well, then. I guess Anthony might get his medic after all.” He chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. “Though I am eager to see how you fare in the heat of battle, if you can pass the drills and physicals, that is.” He did not hide the fact that he didn’t believe Aziraphale would succeed. “You’re a lucky man, Mr. Fell. If Anthony and I weren’t dating, I would not have agreed to his request to place you in his squad.”

A prominent glitch made Aziraphale’s head jerk. “Pardon?” he asked, a high pitch in his tone.

The smile on Lucifer’s face could only be described as wolfish as he leaned over Aziraphale with a menacing twinkle in his eyes. “Didn’t you know? Anthony and I are a bit of an item. Honestly, you didn’t think you could just circumvent procedure for no reason, did you?”

 _Kill._ He was going to squeeze the life out of the pompous devil with his bare hands. Aziraphale’s fingers danced on his knee, itching to rip out the man’s Adam’s apple. _Override. Override. Override. Crowley wouldn’t want you to kill him, and you serve Crowley. Crowley. Crowley._ Aziraphale gripped his knees until his knuckles turned white and his grasp threatened to crush his kneecaps. He cleared his throat and ducked his head to keep his target out of direct eyesight. It didn’t matter that he looked humbled, as long as no blood was spilled.

“I was unaware,” he murmured and cleared his throat to force out some fake gratitude. “Thank you for your generosity.”

Lucifer obviously did not know how close to death he was because he loomed over Aziraphale and had the nerve to tilt his chin up to meet his gaze. “I don’t trust you, Mr. Fell. You see, I am an excellent judge of character and there is just something about you that doesn’t agree with me. I’ll be keeping an eye on you. And…” he leaned in closer and whispered, “Crowley only sees you as a friend, so, if I were you, I’d keep the puppy love ogling under wraps.”

At that point, Aziraphale was shaking with the effort to keep from losing control. To Lucifer, he looked frightened, and he was, just not for the reasons he thought. Aziraphale was frightened for Crowley–frightened of _himself_ too. Lucifer’s smug face and jeering chuckle were suddenly in slow motion. Aziraphale’s mind supplied him with all the ways he could end the man and everyone else in the room with such speed, it was impossible to keep his composure. 

His grip on himself was slipping fast, and just when he thought he’d lose his fight to his programmed objective–

“Are you… purring?” Lucifer’s brow pinched in utter confusion.

Aziraphale did indeed hear purring, and he sighed with relief for the miraculous distraction. “Erm, yes. Well, no. I, heh, I have a kitten in my coat pocket.” He giggled hysterically and opened his coat. The little creature poked her head out and blinked, ears pointing sideways and clearly annoyed by the sudden disturbance.

Lucifer’s mouth opened and closed several times, his face comically bewildered. “Why in Hell do you have a cat in your pocket?”

“Ah, you see,” Aziraphale began–

“Never mind. You may go now. It’s clear I have nothing to worry about at the moment. In fact, I don’t think you’ll ever pose a challenge, will you?” It was a rhetorical and deriding question. Lucifer laughed and left the room. The rest of the demons followed suit, leaving Aziraphale stupefied but beyond relieved in his chair.

“Oh, goodness.”

* * *

Crowley was pacing and biting his thumbnail. The word anxious didn’t even begin to describe the tornado within threatening to destroy him from the inside out. He tried not to think about what-if’s, because if he did, he’d panic. More so than he already was. Like, what if Lucifer transferred Aziraphale to another camp? Or what if Lucifer somehow figured out Aziraphale was a droid? The rebel leader was correct in his belief that Crowley was loyal… to a fault. He was loyal to the cause, not exactly to Lucifer. And he also felt a deep loyalty to Aziraphale who had saved his life in more ways than one. Crowley knew he’d spiraled down one imagined catastrophe after another, and he just couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t stop the intrusive visions of having to help Aziraphale escape, or imagining his human suit being riddled with bullets. 

“I’m gonna guess you’ve done fuck all today,” Beez droned.

Crowley spun around to face his superior and gave them a guilty grimace for an answer. “I’m waiting for Aziraphale.”

Beez nodded, a hint of worry in their expression that only made Crowley panic more. “Yeah, I have news.” Crowley’s jaw welded shut as he waited for Beez to continue. “They’re detaining him for the rest of the day.”

“What?! Why? What happened?” Unwittingly, Crowley had grabbed Beez by the shoulders and shook them for answers.

Beez gave a quick punch to Crowley’s gut, who stumbled backward and spluttered. “Try that again, I dare ya,” Beez warned with a twitch in their eye. “Now if you could dial down your Crowley Crazy and listen? Thank you.” Beez groaned, their annoyance turning back to worry. “For some reason, he’s being fast-tracked through a physical, and then he’s going to be vetted by the lead physician to see if he can be our medic.”

Crowley blinked, and a smile crept onto his face. “That’s glorious news!”

“What? Why?”

“Because I asked Lu to put him our squad, and he’s actually doing it!”

Beez cocked a wary brow. “Why would he do that?”

Crowley withered instantly. He scratched the back of his neck and kicked a pebble. “I may have struck a deal with the proverbial devil.”

Beez widened their eyes. “What deal–”

“Doesn’t matter!” Crowley tried to force a smile. “I got him on our team. He’ll be safe with us and it was the only thing I could think of.”

“A medic, Crowley? He has no history–”

“Don’t worry, he’ll pass with flying colors. His brain is literally one gigantic database of information!” He hissed and looked around suspiciously.

Beez stomped toward Crowley and hissed back. “Yeah, idiot, because he’s _not human_! Have you thought about what his lab results are gonna look like?!”

It was Crowley’s turn to widen his eyes and his jaw dropped for good measure. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck.” Beez growled back.

“Bah, he’ll be alright,” Hastur chimed in, seemingly out of fuck nowhere.

Beez nearly shot to the moon. “Goddamnit!”

Unbothered, Hastur spit on the ground and cleared his throat before continuing. “He’s state-of-the-art tech. You really think they didn’t pump his tubes full of O negative?”

Crowley and Beez looked at each other before sighing with relief. “Of course,” Crowley chuckled while Beez punched his arm hard and called him a moron.

* * *

The small peace of mind that Hastur provided dwindled to nothing as time went by. It was late into the evening and there was still no sign of Aziraphale. With duties completed and nothing else to do, the trio decided it was best to wait where they knew Aziraphale could find them easily.

Flicking the light switch on as Hastur entered his flat, a loud gasp escaped from Beez as they threw a hand to their chest. Their eyes bugged out in wonder and disbelief. 

“I’ve finally lost the plot,” Beez muttered, “it’s-it’s...”

“Livable,” Crowley supplied in his own bemusement. 

Hastur, of course, paid them no mind and went straight to the sofa and collapsed like a sack of potatoes. “Make yourself useful, Crowley, and start the kettle.”

Crowley sighed but nodded as he ambled to the kitchen. He knew Hastur was just trying to keep him distracted, though he’d never admit it. As Crowley pulled the tea bags out and dangled them over the cups, he noticed his hands trembling slightly. He realized he hadn’t eaten since that morning with Aziraphale. Every other thought was of Aziraphale. He couldn’t help it. 

Just as the kettle whistled, the apartment door opened, revealing the angel himself, carrying his shopping bags and a folder. Crowley nearly poured boiling water on himself in his hurry to greet Aziraphale, who didn’t seem bothered in the least by whatever trials he endured in the day.

As Aziraphale closed the door behind him, Crowley circled him, checking for any injuries or signs of distress.

“Hello Crowley,” Aziraphale all but sighed with happiness. 

“Hey, yourself, angel,” he replied, not hiding his relief.

“Fucking finally,” Beez exclaimed. “Where the hell have you been?”

Aziraphale and Crowley situated themselves in the living room, but Crowley was too wired to sit down. “Yeah, what happened? You alright?”

Aziraphale nodded, an adorable and curious furrow to his brow. “Perfectly fine. It seems you have a new medic on your squad!” He continued to stand near Crowley, who let out a large gust of air at his words.

“Fuck, I was worried,” Crowley breathed.

Aziraphale turned to face him with a hopeful countenance. “You were?”

Hastur snorted. “Copper head here hasn’t stopped fretting all day.”

“Shut up,” Crowley muttered, feeling his cheeks heat.

Aziraphale ducked his head shyly and smiled, clearly pleased he’d been missed. “All is well, friends.” He frowned at his bags as he placed them on the coffee table. “Good thing I refrained from purchasing anything that would spoil easily.” 

Beez shot out of their chair and began tearing into the bags. “Oh, shit, Death’s moonshine.” They grinned as they appraised the bottle and ignored the other purchases that were mostly cleaning supplies, toiletries, and some canned foods.

“Good,” Hastur drawled in his usual bored tone, “hope you don’t plan on wasting this one on _cleaning_.”

Aziraphale shot him a withering look. “So, you noticed.”

Hastur shrugged and snatched the bottle out of Beez’s hands. “What else ya get,” he asked as he unscrewed the cap and the smell of an old shoe filled all their nostrils. 

Everyone made a sound of disgust save for Hastur.

Aziraphale perked up with a beaming smiled and opened his coat. “I found us some pest control!” And pulled out the fluffiest black kitten from his pocket, who meowed loudly with outrage.

A high-pitched shrieking erupted immediately that made Crowley jerk back in surprise. He looked to Beez who seemed just as startled but otherwise had their mouth closed. The source of the banshee screech still filled the room as Hastur flung himself at Aziraphale, dropping the bottle of moonshine only to scoop the kitten up in his hands and raise it up to his face.

“Ooo! Aren’t you a beauty?! Oh my goodness! Who’s a pretty kitty-witty, eh? Who’s a pretty kitty? You! You are, you gorgeous thing, you–“ the rest of Hastur’s animated cooing was lost in the fur of the shocked kitten as he rubbed her all over his face.

Crowley looked to Aziraphale who was still frozen in place, watching the spectacle of Hastur peppering kisses all over the creature. Crowley pursed his lips and tensed, trying to keep from howling with laughter. 

And then, Hastur picked up the groceries and walked to the kitchen, bouncing the little thing held to his chest as if it were an infant. “You a hungwy awern’t you? Let’s get you fed and cleaned up!”

They all watched, stupefied, as Hastur practically waltzed through the kitchen to gather a bowl and a can of tuna. Beez, Crowley and Aziraphale took turns looking to the other for some kind of reassurance that the scene before them was not, in fact, a hallucination. It wasn’t long before all three stifled giggles and snickers, which Hastur ignored in favor of spoiling the kitten absolutely rotten.

“Wonders never cease,” Aziraphale chuckled out breathily. He was smiling ear to ear with pure fondness.

Crowley stared at the merry angel, not knowing how besotted his grin looked on his dopey face. 

“Well, I need a drink,” Beez exclaimed as they poured the moonshine into their tea.

Now that the atmosphere had lightened considerably, Crowley relaxed and joined Aziraphale, who sat on the sofa, keeping a respectable distance but sprawling out to feel closer to him. He didn’t ask himself why.

Aziraphale recounted his day as they sipped their cuppas. He’d been poked and prodded. Blood had been drawn, and they were relieved to know that Hastur had been correct in his assumption that Aziraphale had synthetic blood that would read as human. He talked about how he was tested by the lead physician, going as far as taking him to a morgue to chop up a cadaver to test not only his knowledge of anatomy but of his resilience. When he neared the ending of his tale, he bit his lip, looking nervous. Aziraphale cleared his throat and flitted his gaze between Crowley and the ground.

“Thank you, Crowley, for the heads up and the, ah, your special request. It was very kind of you.”

“Not kind,” Crowley let out reflexively. “Just, you know,” he could feel himself blushing again, “wanted to make sure you were taken care of. Safe. Yeah.”

Beez rolled their eyes and then glared at Crowley. “So, what deal did you make with Lucifer in order to pull this off?”

Aziraphale snapped his gaze to Crowley with a frown. “Deal?”

Crowley cursed internally. “Hm? Nothing. Deal? What deal?” It was apparent he was not puting on a convincing performance. “It was a friendly favor,” he let out slowly.

“Horseshit,” Beez barked with a laugh. “Lucifer doesn’t do favors–at least not for nothing.”

Crowley’s ears burned with shame as Aziraphale shifted in his seat and looked away. 

“Perhaps it is because you are romantically involved that he granted your request,” Aziraphale said softly, refusing to meet Crowley’s gaze.

Stomach dropping, Crowley straightened out in his seat and waved his hands. “No-no-no. We’re not-we’re not _romantically anything_. We’re just-just friends. It was a _friendly_ favor.”

And Crowley be damned, but was that hope in Aziraphale’s expression? If it was, it was gone the instant Aziraphale looked him dead in the eye. The angel’s sweet demeanor changed to a blank coolness that made Crowley want to cringe. 

Aziraphale looked away again. “Whatever the reason, thank you.”

 _Shit._ He’d fucked up. He didn’t know how, but he knew he’d fucked up.

There would have been an awkward silence had Hastur not been cackling as he dangled a shoe string before little Anathema. In any case, Beez gave Crowley a shrewd look and abruptly smirk and slapped their knees. “Well!” They stood up. “Gotta get some shuteye. Hey, Aziraphale, do you even sleep?”

Aziraphale gave a tentative smirk and nodded. “Technically. I can go into sleep mode and transform and redistribute energy and data that my corporation has collected through out the day. I don’t need to _sleep_ as much as you all do, but it’s necessary from time to time to clean up the clutter in here,” he pointed to his head.

“Huh. Cool. Well, g’night.” 

They said their goodbye’s, leaving Crowley and Aziraphale in a tense quiet.

“Um,” Crowley began, not understanding why he was suddenly so nervous. “Think you’ll sleep tonight?” he asked in want of anything else to say.

Aziraphale smiled politely. “I probably should. I need to, heh, wrangle some errant files and... objectives.”

“I see,” Crowley replied, not really understanding. “Eh, well, where will you, uh, sleep?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “There’s a bedroll. I suppose the sofa will do as well. Or a chair. I could even just stand in a corner.” He chuckled nervously.

Crowley shook his head. “No, that won’t do. Shit, you don’t even have pajamas! And no matter how well you disinfected the place, angel, I’m sure this couch has a full bacterial ecosystem with intelligent life.”

Aziraphale barked out a laugh. “Quite.”

Crowley smiled, happy to have eased the tension a bit. “Hey, I have extra sleep clothes I think will fit you. And I have sheets. Um, if you want.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows shot up. “Erm, yes, that would be lovely if it’s not too much of a bother.”

“Of course not. C’mon.” Crowley stood and motioned for Aziraphale to follow him.

Upon entering Crowley’s flat, Aziraphale was not exactly surprised to find it clean and organized. What was odd was the minimalist style. Aziraphale had pegged Crowley as someone who enjoyed warmth and comfort. Back at the Eastern Camp, he’d sometimes walk in on Crowley curled up in his bed, hugging a pillow, with his blankets pulled over his head. It was adorable. But his apartment was bare. Not warm. Uninviting. The color scheme was definitely Crowley, though. All dark blacks, grays and reds. 

“Make yourself at home,” Crowley motioned to his sleek black sofa. “I’ll be back in a tick.”

Aziraphale found the sofa was as uncomfortable as it appeared. Still, he tried to seem relaxed if only to put Crowley more at ease. The poor man was so high-strung, more so than Aziraphale remembered.

Aziraphale gasped as he locked his eyes on a painting. It was a monstrous creature with pointed ears and pale gray skin. It’s eyes were sucked in and it had a small smile on its thin lips. It was reaching out to the dawning sun. As eerie as the demon-like person looked, Aziraphale couldn’t help but find it beautiful. The details surrounding it were incredible. Nocturnal animals of all kinds were retreating, keeping to the shadows.

Curious, Aziraphale stood and meandered around the room. He found more paintings with similar themes in the same style. Upon looking at the signature, he realized it was a small snake, exactly like the one on Crowley’s beautiful face.

“Ah, found those, eh?” Crowley came out of a room with a bundle of things in his arms.

Aziraphale was awestruck. “You painted these, didn’t you?”

Crowley blushed prettily and nodded. “I did. Creepy, I know...”

“Not at all! They are spectacular, my dear. You clearly understand how to find beauty in darkness. And the internal struggle on these creature’s faces are exquisitely captured. There is so much emotion in these... it’s rather lovely.”

Crowley looked away and cleared his throat. “Thanks. You can have one. If you like.”

Aziraphale was abruptly filled with a mighty need to embrace Crowley, so he did. “I would be honored,” he breathed next to Crowley’s ear that had turned a bright pink. He could sense the man’s heart beating quickly and feel his warmth seeping out of him to meet Aziraphale. Crowley didn’t hug back, probably because his hands were full, but it didn’t matter to Aziraphale. He cataloged Crowley’s scent and the feel of his sun kissed skin. It was a shame Aziraphale had to release him at all, but he did. 

“Ye-yeah, sure. No problem,” Crowley let out, seeming to have difficulty saying words at all. How Aziraphale wished it were in response to something more than friendly feelings. “Here.” Crowley pushed the bundle into Aziraphale’s arms and began picking out some articles of clothing. “You can wear these. They’re very comfortable.”

Aziraphale beamed at the clothes. “Oh, thank you, Crowley.”

“Eh, ya gotta stop thanking me. Please.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “As you wish.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment when Crowley bulldozed right through it, louder than he obviously intended. “It’s hard to believe it’s really you. Um, I mean, you look so–you seem so... human.”

Aziraphale’s smile only widened at the admission. When he caught a hint of doubt in Crowley’s eyes, he tilted his head and wondered aloud. “Hard to believe. I’m glad I can fool the masses Crowley, but is there something else you mean to say?”

Crowley bit down on his lip and swayed on his heels. “I-well-I... I mean, how would anyone know the difference.” He chuckled nervously. “For all we know you could actually be human and not... and not–“

“I see,” Aziraphale interrupted, sensing Crowley’s distress. “You doubt it’s really me.”

“No! I just–I”

“It’s alright, Crowley, really. It’s flattering actually.” Though there was a hint of disappointment knowing Crowley didn’t trust him completely. “I could prove it to you, if that would put you at ease?”

Crowley’s mouth slacked open. “You don’t have to do that.”

And though Aziraphale could hear the truth in his words, it wouldn’t do to leave Crowley with even a smidgen of doubt. So, Aziraphale placed the bundle of sheets on the sofa and then sat down next to the pile. 

“Here, stand behind me, please.”

Crowley only took a moment to do as requested. “Okay.”

“My body is an replica of a human’s with some exceptions.” With that, Aziraphale took an unnecessary breath and opened his core’s compartment. He heard Crowley gasp as the small opening widened enough for him to see inside. There was a click and a soft hiss as the ball that held Aziraphale’s code emerge. “That is what could say is my hard drive. That is, essentially, me.”

“This little thing?”

“Indeed.”

“Wow.”

Aziraphale gave him another moment to process what he was seeing and closed himself up again. He stood and faced his friend, who had grown a bit pale. “It must be odd from your perspective, but just think of it as my brain. Just looks different from yours,” he smiled wryly. 

Crowley did not smile back, but nodded as he swallowed loudly. “Incredible. Really.”

The shift in Crowley’s eyes did not go unnoticed. There was what looked like sadness and disappointment in his flittering gaze, and Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to replace those feelings with joy and love.

They stood in awkward silence once more. Human minds were so fragile. Aziraphale convinced himself that Crowley just needed some time to acclimate to the new information.

“I should let you rest,” Aziraphale said as he picked up the pile.

“Oh, uh, well, you...”

Aziraphale looked up expectantly. “Yes?”

“As I said earlier, I should have invited you to stay here. With me. Um, would you like to stay?”

Oh, Aziraphale wanted nothing more. But. He looked at his shoes, Lucifer’s face coming to mind. And, oh, God, he could not be roommates with Crowley and helplessly watch him and Lucifer be... _friendly_ for lack of a better word. God forbid he walk in on them... _no._

 _“_ No, thank you.” Aziraphale was delighted to see a pout on Crowley’s lips. “Someone has to look after Hastur, you know.” He gave a weak smile along with his weak excuse.

“We are just friends, you know? Lucifer and I, I mean.” Crowley blurted, seemingly reading Aziraphale’s mind.

Aziraphale closed his eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me, Crowley. It’s your life. You have every right–“

“I’m not! I’m not lying,” Crowley hastily interrupted.

Aziraphale took a long look at Crowley, and although there was truth in what he said, there was also something Crowley was keeping from him. Aziraphale did not pry, because he did not wish to know. He already had a hard enough time keeping himself from murdering his rival.

“Good night, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered. And left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so first. I am trying to make sure I give everyone a fair warning that I will be taking down The Bookshop Around the Corner. I'm already on draft 3 of making it into an original novel and I will be using it to find representation. So, Pleeaaasssseee do not repost the story publicly! You may download it for your private enjoyment.
> 
> AND NOW CHECK THIS OUT! It's art! ART FOR THIS FIC!
> 
> [](https://64.media.tumblr.com/5c9124910ad2737726ac31c3b1c24913/8d2eea33e17107f5-62/s540x810/a9d912828cd6ef724daebb179b4961477a07172a.png)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [We've met](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29635911) by [francu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/francu/pseuds/francu)




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